


Like Electricity Between Your Lips

by orphan_account



Series: working hard (hardly working) [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Romance, everyone is still dumb and still great, figuring out how to relationship 101, honestly this is my excuse to write crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 151,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What with transitioning from receptionist to secretary, dealing with his odd best friends, unwillingly becoming a babysitter, mentoring a hopeless yet lovable protégé who can barely speak Korean, and adjusting to all the changes in the office, Sicheng's got a hell of a lot to update his friends back home on.Oh, and of course there's Nakamoto Yuta, too. Long story short? Relationships are hard, and Sicheng has a lot to learn about love.





	1. Sicheng goes to hell

**Author's Note:**

> The Yuwin sequel is here! To any new readers, I'd highly recommend reading the first installment in this series because a lot of stuff won't make sense without the earlier context.
> 
> Some quick notes I'd like to make first:  
> -This first chapter takes place before/a little at the very beginning of "Speculation, Speculation", but the rest of the chapters will continue from where that story ended  
> -Most of the characters who got a lot of focus in the first part will still be important, but not to the same degree as before. Meanwhile, characters who didn't show up as much before will be highlighted a little more  
> \- I used the Mandarin romanization of Hendery's name (Huang Guanheng instead of Wong Kunhang) just for convenience and continuity  
> -Take the chapter count with a grain of salt because I always start with a plan but usually go off it later lol
> 
> Enjoy!

“Wow,” Seungwan remarks through a mouthful of popcorn—a sad lunch, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. She doesn’t even bat an eye as Ten runs in circles around the office with Sicheng hot on his heels, a murderous glint in the latter’s eyes. “I always knew Sicheng was a tsundere, but never to this level.”

Sunyoung clicks her tongue in disapproval as she reaches over and snags some popcorn from Seungwan’s bowl. “I always knew Ten had chronic foot in the mouth syndrome, but never to this level,” she comments sagely.

A third hand plunges into the popcorn bowl. “I always knew the men in this office were idiots, but never to this level,” Sooyoung observes, boredom dripping from her voice.

The three let out sighs in unison, ignoring Ten’s terrified screeching and Sicheng’s angry Wenzhounese threats. Sooyoung opens her bottom drawer and pulls out two wine coolers, shooting Sunyoung an apologetic glance as she and Seungwan clink glasses. “We’re really gonna miss you when you go on leave, unnie. This place could really do with some more women,” Sooyoung laments.

“All the women in the world couldn’t outweigh the stupidity of our male coworkers,” Sunyoung disagrees, enviously eyeing the teal wine coolers.

“The cold, hard truth,” Seungwan shakes her head as she downs half the drink at once.

Over by the printers, Sicheng’s finally caught up to the number one idiot in the office. He lunges at Ten like a cat, pinning the shorter man to the ground and aggressively whacking him with a rolled up magazine. That’s totally stealing Seungwan’s signature move, but she shrugs it off and decides that sometimes, plagiarism is warranted. But only on special occasions, that is.

Johnny and Yuta slowly emerge from the break room with matching expressions of resignation. All they can do is watch with apprehensive eyes as Sicheng beats the daylights out of Ten, not daring to turn the angry receptionist’s attention on them instead. Johnny lifts his head up and makes eye contact with Seungwan, gestures to Sicheng attacking his boyfriend, and mouths, _The hell am I supposed to do?_

Seungwan merely lifts a brow in response. Taking the hint, Johnny grits his teeth and awkwardly shuffles away from the scene. With Ten’s screams of protest as background noise, Johnny gingerly sits back down at his desk and returns to his computer. Yuta, on the other hand, is frozen in place as he stares blankly at the scene in front of him.

“Boys,” Sunyoung comments scathingly. She longingly stares at the wine coolers one last time before settling for more popcorn. “My kids are easier to deal with than them, and that’s saying something.”

“You ever think we were only hired so there could be some brain cells here?” Sooyoung muses out loud.

“Nah,” Seungwan dismisses the notion with a flick of her hand. “We’re here to fulfill the diversity quota, obviously. Fuck the patriarchy”

“Oh,” Sooyoung pauses to think that one over. “Oh. That’s…depressingly accurate.”

With matching grimaces, Seungwan and Sooyoung take more sips of wine while Sunyoung just grabs the entire popcorn bowl for herself. Seungwan’s about to protest because that was supposed to be her lunch, but considering Sunyoung’s pregnant, Seungwan can give her a pass.

_Another day, another dollar_ , she thinks dryly as she watches Sicheng discard the magazine and resort to throttling Ten, eyes blazing red with anger. Once again, the boyfriends are absolutely useless as Johnny starts whistling whilst typing away at his computer and Yuta slowly slinks back to his own desk without sparing a glance at the tussling on the floor. But then again, no one ever expected any more from them.

Seungwan cups her hands around her mouth and calls, “Hey, make sure you don’t kill him! We actually need him, believe it or not!”

She may not understand Mandarin and especially not Wenzhounese, but those words being spat like bullets from Sicheng’s mouth? The sound alone is fucking brutal. Seungwan glances up at the ceiling and sends a quick prayer Ten’s way. _Are you there, Big Guy? It’s me, Seungwan. Please let my favorite idiot survive this brutal attack—he may be dumb and oblivious and a pain in the ass, but I’d really prefer for him to be alive because funeral costs, in this economy? Not gonna happen._

Maybe she should start going to church, because she’s pretty sure there’s at least one thing wrong with her prayer. As she turns to Sunyoung to ask for her popcorn back, Seungwan makes a mental note to ask Mark what the proper etiquette is when talking to the big guy. Good Korean-Christian boy Mark Lee would probably be weirded out by her asking that, but it’s worth a shot anyway. Besides, she’s already crazy in his eyes so it’s not like she can harm her reputation any further.

Suddenly, her phone buzzes, distracting her right as Sunyoung throws the last few kernels into her mouth. 

_Nakamoto Yuta to Son Seungwan_

_Nakamoto Yuta: I feel like I should be saving Ten right about now, except I really don’t want to get in the way of Sicheng’s rage._

_Son Seungwan: Wise man_

_Son Seungwan: How’d you even get together, anyway? Not that you two aren’t cute as a couple, but Sicheng’s so…tsundere? When did this even happen? What went down? Spill all the juicy details, please._

_Nakamoto Yuta: Lol_

_Nakamoto Yuta: Guess you could say it’s kind of a long story_

_Son Seungwan: You think I have anything better to do? And before you say my job, that doesn’t count._

_Nakamoto Yuta: Well…_

_Nakamoto Yuta: Okay so you remember Sichengie’s first day here?_

“Make sure you’ve got your wallet with you! If you forget that you’re fucked.”

“Thanks, ge,” Sicheng mutters under his breath as he focuses on not colliding into anyone in the midst of the busy subway. Dryly, he adds, “I’m twenty-four, I think I can handle myself.”

Kun’s sigh echoes through the phone. “It’s hard when my baby brother runs off to another country. I’m worried about your safety, you know!”

Sicheng rolls his eyes despite the small grin on his face, but it’s not like Kun can see that. “You’re only a year older than me and we’re not related, dummy,” he laughs.

“Hey, I’m almost two years older! And you may say that now, but don’t think I’ve forgotten all the times you broke into my dorm because you missed your favorite older brother!”

Just narrowly avoiding getting whacked by some fat businessman’s briefcase, Sicheng quickens his pace. He’s still got fifteen minutes before eight and the Taeng&Co building is only a block away, but Sicheng strictly adheres to the principle that to be early is to be on time while to be on time is to be late. Besides, he’s gotta make a good impression on his first day.

As he waits for the walk signal, Sicheng suddenly remembers that he’s still on the phone. “Ge, I’m fine,” he insists. “I’ve been planning this for years and now it’s finally happening—I’m happy, really.”

“Still can’t believe you moved to another country to be a receptionist,” Kun laments.

“I didn’t come here to be a receptionist. It’s because—”

“Yes yes, I know—you left to pursue a future you couldn’t envision in China, and getting a job as a receptionist is the first step to climbing the ladder, yadda yadda yadda. I get it and I completely support you, Sichengie, but we really do miss you here. Yangyang’s been moping ever since you left and even Dejun and Guanheng have been looking down. Can’t believe you just left me alone with all the kids _you_ adopted like that.”

“I didn’t adopt them,” Sicheng argues, struggling to hide his laughter. Finally, the walk light comes on, cueing him to briskly stride over the crosswalk. “I just took pity of some lost underclassmen, that’s all.”

“If you say so,” Kun retorts, sarcasm dripping from every word. “They keep coming into my shop and demanding for free food because, I quote, ‘Sicheng-ge abandoned us and now we can’t fend for ourselves’. You know how much that Guanheng can eat? I swear I’m gonna go bankrupt soon just because of those devils.”

Taeng&Co comes into view, prompting Sicheng to walk even faster. “The simple solution would be to make them pay,” he points out amusedly.

“Yeah, but then Yangyang busts out the puppy eyes and you know I can’t say no to that. Those kids are too smart for their own good.”

“Indeed they are,” Sicheng agrees. “But we’re gonna have to pick up this conversation later, because I just got to work. Wish me luck, Kun-ge.”

“Ha, luck? I hope you—”

Smoothly, Sicheng hangs up before Kun can finish whatever scathing yet secretly affectionate thought he was in the middle of. People may call Sicheng a tsundere, but Kun’s not too far from one, either.

Like most of the big business buildings in Seoul, Taeng&Co is tall and towers high in the sky. If Sicheng cranes his head back all the way, he can just barely make out the topmost floor. That, he thinks with a small smile, is his new home, and the start of this journey. He’d like to believe he’s levelheaded and not a romanticist, but something about this just feels…beautiful. Seoul isn’t perfect by any means and if Sicheng is being completely honest, he does miss Wenzhou and his more recent home of Shanghai a lot. But that’s behind him now, and Seoul is his future.

Steeling his shoulders, Sicheng grips the strap of his bag and takes his first step into the building. _Wow_ , he can’t help but think dreamily as the air conditioning washes over his skin and he drinks in the sight of Taeng&Co’s simple, yet modern and tastefully designed interior. _This is it. This is really it, oh my god. Everything’s perfect and beautiful and exactly as I dreamed and—_

“Ten, you motherfucker!” A shrill scream echoes throughout the lobby.

— _huh_ _?_

The next thing Sicheng knows, a short man zooms past him in a blur, making a beeline for the elevators. A woman wearing a three piece suit barges through the doors next, nothing but pure fury in her eyes as she unleashes another yell and dashes after the man, her heels clacking with every step.

Dumbfounded, Sicheng remains rooted in place as he watches the woman snatch the man by the collar right as he reaches the elevators, causing the latter to yelp. Despite how loud the pair’s squabbling is, no one else in the lobby even bats an eye or looks their way. The only cohesive thought in Sicheng’s mind is, _literally what the fuck?_

He’s so baffled by the bizarre past few seconds that he fails to notice the presence of another man beside him until Sicheng hears a chuckle. “I wouldn’t worry about those two,” a light voice remarks. “That’s nothing out of the ordinary for them. I’d say that’s pretty tame for their standards, actually.”

“Um,” is all Sicheng can utter. “Please tell me this isn’t actually Taeng&Co.”

“No can do,” the man shakes his head with a bright smile.

Now that Sicheng’s had a few seconds to recover, he takes a good look at his companion. The man’s about an inch or so shorter than Sicheng, but his build is more athletic. His black hair has a few brown highlights here and there, prompting Sicheng to wonder if they’re natural or dyed. Dimly, Sicheng notes how the guy’s also got a narrow-ish face and strong chin, but for the most part, he’s too blinded by that big, sunny smile. Because damn, if that weren’t a sight.

“Are you new?” The man asks curiously.

Sicheng clears his throat to drive away any useless thoughts and observations. “Yeah, this is my first day. I’m Sicheng,” he greets, awkwardly holding out a hand.

Something flickers in the pretty man’s eyes as he clasps Sicheng’s hand in his. “Yuta,” he introduces himself with another shining smile. Yuta’s gaze darts to the direction of the elevators as he adds, “And those two idiots are my friends. Ten and Seungwan-noona sure are something.”

“I can see that,” Sicheng nods, judgmentally watching as the woman—Seungwan?—grabs a handful of Ten’s—what the fuck kind of name is that?—hair, a gesture the latter reciprocates as they stomp into the elevator together whilst still arguing.

Yuta releases his hand, leaving Sicheng frozen in place with his hand still awkwardly extended. “I gotta head up now, but it was nice meeting you, Sicheng. I’ll see you later,” he dips his head, offers Sicheng one last playful grin, then jogs off after his friends.

Unconsciously, Sicheng takes a step in Yuta’s direction before catching himself. _No,_ he scolds, digging his heels into the ground and aggressively biting down on his lower lip before he can say anything stupid like, “Which floor do you work on?” or “Will we actually see each other again?” Sicheng waits until Yuta’s slipped past the elevator doors before he allows himself to breathe again, a stab of disappointment piercing his heart.

_No,_ he immediately reprimands himself again. _No boys. You didn’t come here to fall for the first nice guy you meet. Stay strong, Dong Sicheng. You’re so much better than this and you know it. Boys can wait_.

With one last longing look in the direction Yuta disappeared in—one look, because that’s all the weakness he’s allowing himself to show—Sicheng makes his way over to the front desk and starts his first day for real.

The receptionist is nice enough, calling up the manager’s secretary and handing Sicheng a few introductory folders while explaining the company basics. “The assistant manager should be here any second now,” she— _Soonkyu_ , according to her name tag, smiles kindly. Then she lowers her voice and conspiratorially whispers, “But good luck up there, kid. The private team’s quite a handful.”

“What?” Sicheng blinks. He laughs nervously, says, “Surely they can’t be that bad, right?”

Soonkyu’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, you’ll see,” she winks.

Okay, now Sicheng’s starting to get just the slightest bit worried. He’s already witnessed a squabbling duo and met one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen, and now he’s just finding out that the private team he’s been assigned to is “a handful”? Dear lord, maybe he really should have listened to Kun and stayed in China. Dejun lives in his old apartment now; surely he’ll let Sicheng move back in, right?

“Ah, there he is!” Soonkyu exclaims. She pats Sicheng on the shoulder, says, “Good luck, kid,” and gives him a light push to send him on his way.

_Breathe, Sicheng_ , he instructs himself. _You can do this._

The man coming his way is a little below average height—why is everyone here so short? Sicheng’s not even that tall himself!—and with a narrow build. He’s got a rather interesting face too, with the highlight being his lips that curve upwards at the corner. If there were ever a cat in human form, then this guy would be it, what with those lips and slightly mischievous eyes.

“Hi!” He waves as he gets closer. Sicheng furrows his brows. Is it just him, or is there something _odd_ about the way this guy speaks? 

Unperturbed, the man sticks out a hand for Sicheng to shake. “My name is Jin Zhongda, and I’m the assistant manager of the Seoul branch private team. It’s nice to finally meet you, Dong Sicheng-ssi.”

_Ah_. Now it clicks. The reason why he sounds so weird is because he’s speaking Mandarin. Heavily accented, awkward, and tonally incorrect Mandarin, but Mandarin nonetheless.

It’s not like Sicheng is one to judge, because he knows the struggle of speaking a foreign language. He started teaching himself Korean back in high school after he first developed notions of leaving China, and he knows for a fact that he didn’t sound too great as a beginner. It wasn’t until he met some Korean international students at his university in Shanghai that Sicheng’s skills really developed. He even spent a semester of his junior year abroad in Seoul, which greatly helped improve his speaking. So really, he understands the struggle, but at the same time, he can’t help but cringe just a bit.

“Thank you for having me,” Sicheng replies back in Mandarin just to humor his new assistant manager. Then, in barely accented Korean, he says, “But you don’t have to speak Mandarin to me, really. Korean is fine.”

Embarrassed, the assistant manager ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck. “Ah, sorry. It’s been a while so I was excited to show off my Mandarin—” Sicheng quirks a brow at that “—so I got carried away. My real name is actually Kim Jongdae, and like I said I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Anyway!” Jongdae claps his hands together, eager to change the subject. “Let’s get up to the top floor, shall we? You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, Sicheng-ssi.”

Soonkyu’s warning of _Oh, you’ll see_ blares through Sicheng’s mind in a red alert. “Right,” he smiles weakly. “I’m excited.”

_If I die, I’m gonna come back and haunt Kun-ge for ever letting me leave._

Despite that awkward introduction, Jongdae seems nice enough. He explains to Sicheng during the long elevator ride that a few years back, he spent a sabbatical in Beijing helping out at his friend’s startup company, hence his limited Mandarin skills. Things had been going pretty well and Jongdae had considered relocating, but then he and his then-girlfriend-now-wife found out they were expecting a kid so he chose to stay in Korea. 

“My wife works in the team, too. There aren’t many of us because Chanyeol, the manager, is a bit picky, but we’re all pretty close,” Jongdae’s in the midst of explaining as the elevator doors finally open on the thirtieth floor. As they walk, he says, “We have a few internationals, too. Our accountant is from Canada, and the two guys working in sales are from Japan and Thailand.”

The office isn’t that big, but it’s spacious enough for how few people make up the private team. There’s a couch and few chairs across the receptionist’s desk, and then the rest of the workspace is divided by cubicles. Sicheng can see a partitioned-off break room in the corner and what he thinks to be a private office with opaque blue walls by the floor-to-ceiling window. The manager’s space, he’s assuming. Overall, it’s pretty much what he expected, which is good because he’s not too fond of surprises.

At least, everything’s pretty much what Sicheng expected until Jongdae cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Oi, Baekhyun!” at the top of his lungs.

_Dear fucking lord, who even are these people?_

“What?” An equally loud and high-pitched voice coming from the desk outside the manager’s office shouts back. 

“Tell Chanyeol our new member’s here!” Jongdae yells.

“Gotcha!” This Baekhyun, whom Sicheng presumes to be the secretary, screams an affirmative. Before Baekhyun can open his mouth again, however, the door to the private office opens and a tall man with elfish ears sticks his head out.

“Baek, Dae—it’s literally eight in the morning,” the manager points out with a beleaguered sigh.

“So get your lazy ass up and introduce the team!” Jongdae counters.

Sicheng clutches at his ears. _What the hell even is this place?_

Chanyeol drags a tired hand through his hair as he reluctantly makes his way over. The other team members watch with intrigue as Jongdae leads Sicheng to the middle of the office. Distantly, Sicheng’s aware that all eyes are on him, but he’s way too mortified to meet any of their gazes, instead keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

“Everyone,” Chanyeol announces. “This is Dong Sicheng, the new receptionist I told you about. He’s just come from Shanghai, so please make him feel welcome and treat him with utmost respect.”

“You say that like we’re not decent people,” a woman sniffs. She’s one of two members who’s got an isolated cubicle, and for some reason she seems familiar. 

With a jolt, Sicheng recognizes her as the screaming woman in the lobby. Seungwan, was it? And if she’s here, Sicheng thinks he has an inkling of who else might be…

_You’re fucked_ , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Kun’s jeers in delight.

Trepidation gnawing at his chest, Sicheng slowly scans the rest of the room. The man and the woman sitting at the farthest desks shoved into a corner don’t look familiar, and neither does the long-faced, bunny-esque man sitting at the other isolated desk. There are three people sitting at the cubicles closest to the middle—a gorgeous yet unfamiliar woman, a man with a pointed nose, and, just as Sicheng had feared, a very familiar man.

Yuta waves at him cheerfully, an electric smile gracing his lips.

Kun’s obnoxious laughter invades Sicheng’s thoughts. _You’re so, so, fucked, Dong Sicheng._

_Feeling that V_

_Dong Sicheng: Hello, all. Please do me a favor by responding with a simple, “I told you so”. No questions allowed._

_Xiao Dejun: I told you so_

_Liu Yangyang: I told you so_

_Huang Guanheng: I told you so_

_Qian Kun: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_

_Qian Kun: I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO_

_Dong Sicheng: Thank you to everyone besides @Qian Kun. Now if you’d please excuse me, I must hurl myself out a thirtieth story window._

_Liu Yangyang: That sounds dangerous._

_Xiao Dejun: Do it_

_Dong Sicheng: @Xiao Dejun if you don’t shut up I’m gonna call my old landlord and get your lease revoked._

_Xiao Dejun: Yes, ge._

_Qian Kun: I’ll have you know that I’m literally loving every single second of this._

_Huang Guanheng: I’m a bit confused, but should we be concerned for Sicheng-ge at all?_

_Qian Kun: Nope :)_

_Dong Sicheng: I’ve made many a mistake in my life, but none quite so grave as this one._

_Huang Guanheng: Why are you talking like an old man?_

_Xiao Dejun: Because he is one._

_Dong Sicheng: I still have the landlord on speed dial, you know._

_Dong Sicheng: Crap, I gotta go. If you don’t hear back from me ever again then that means I’ve actually jumped out a window._

_Qian Kun: And this, kids, is why you should always listen to me._

“Okay, spill. What happened today, and why did you want to hurl yourself out a window?” Kun’s voice cackles through the speaker.

Sicheng hops over a few unpacked boxes to reach his bed, then flops on his back. “Too much happened,” he shudders, curling into a fetal position as coping mechanism for the trauma he’d experienced. “Way, way too much happened.”

Kun keeps chortling, which isn’t doing much for Sicheng’s self-esteem right now. “Come on, Sicheng. It couldn’t have been that bad, right? Mr. ‘Seoul’s my dream’ already so discouraged after only one day of work?”

“Ge,” Sicheng deadpans. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

The initial introductions went well enough. Taeil and Sooyoung, the two shoved into a corner, were customer relations workers. Doyoung the bunny dude was a tech specialist. Seungwan was the sole accountant, Baekhyun was the secretary, and of course Chanyeol and Jongdae were the heads of the branch. The sales team comprised of Jongdae’s wife Sunyoung, Ten—the man whom Seungwan had been chasing after in the lobby—and, of course, Yuta.

Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta. Oh, Yuta.

Sicheng was actually quite proud of himself for keeping his cool as he shook Yuta’s hand for the second time that day. Even when Yuta’s eyes twinkled like a fucking anime character—and no, Sicheng isn’t just saying that because the dude’s Japanese—and he squeezed his hand, Sicheng did not freak out. Years of mastering the art of the tsundere helped Sicheng develop the perfect poker face, and his mother did not raise him to be a weak bitch. 

After introductions, Baekhyun, whose duties were most similar to his, came over to Sicheng’s desk and helped him get settled. Yet another addition to the short population, Baekhyun had a cute face that masked the fact he was already thirty and an upbeat demeanor. But suddenly, in the midst of explaining to Sicheng which line would redirect callers to his, Baekhyun stopped mid-sentence and stared off at something. Confused, Sicheng followed his gaze to see just what could be so interesting.

That something happened to be Park Chanyeol’s ass. Although not half-bad, Sicheng still judged Baekhyun just the tiniest bit, anyway. Really? Manager and secretary? How goddamn cliché.

Then, after Baekhyun had returned to his own desk, Sicheng quickly discovered that although a bit secluded, the receptionist’s desk had a great vantage point of the rest of the office. He’s just far back enough that every desk except for the customer relations cubicles is in view, but even then he can still see exactly what Sooyoung’s spiking into her and Taeil’s coffees. Sicheng observes as Ten prances away from his own desk to bother Seungwan—he briefly wondered if they’re a couple, then dismissed that notion almost instantly. Judging by the way Ten poked her with the sharp end of a pencil, they’re more like brother and sister. Doyoung played Tetris, Sunyoung appeared to actually be working as she talks on the phone, and Yuta’s nowhere to be seen.

Although this office environment is very much different (read: unproductive) than the one Sicheng is used to, he supposed it’s alright. After all, he’s not quite sure why each Taeng&Co regional branch needs a special private team. What’s the point when the rest of the building is filled with people doing the same jobs? So perhaps the reason why there’s not much work to do is because the team only covers a select few clients, but honestly? Sicheng doesn’t know, and he doesn’t quite care to know, either.

As dramatic as this may make him sound, Sicheng didn’t really come to Korea to make friends. He’s here because he has a goal, and he’s not about to get distracted from that.

So he sat at his desk and answered calls like a pro, satisfaction coursing through his veins with every successful meeting or appointment scheduled. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before at his old job, but it felt exciting to do the same tasks he’s comfortable with in a different language. He’s also proud to say that although there are still some phrases that take him a second to decipher, his Korean has really improved since his university days, which is just a testament to how hard he’s worked for this position. Nothing can stop Dong Sicheng now; he’s on a fucking roll and—

“KIM FUCKING DOYOUNG STOP TRYING TO E-MAIL ME VIRUSES!”

—nothing’s about to stop him. Nothing. At. All.

Sicheng took one long inhale through his nose and tried his best to keep his eyes on his monitor. Okay, so this person needed a meeting with Jongdae on this day, and then this department requested for Taeil’s presence the next day. All Sicheng had to do was find an open space in Taeil’s schedule, but when he clicked on his name, he was met with a blank screen. Which could have meant that Taeil had nothing planned, but it probably actually meant there was an error and his schedule wasn’t uploaded to the server. Which meant Sicheng had to physically go over and talk to him to resolve the issue, because clearly tech specialist Kim Doyoung was too busy trying to hijack Seungwan’s computer.

_Fuck my life_.

Stepping out of the comfort zone of his desk made Sicheng feel all sorts of vulnerable, which he very much did not appreciate. He spedwalked over to Taeil and Sooyoung and did his best to ignore the hullabaloo going on as Ten retaliated against Doyoung by shooting staples at him while backed up by Seungwan. 

“Um, hi Taeil-hyung,” Sicheng greeted. “I think there’s been an issue with getting access to your schedule?”

Moon Taeil turned to him with owlish eyes and solemnly replied, “Ah, I never upload that. Don’t need the government tracking my every step, you know.”

“What?” Sicheng responded blankly.

Sooyoung shot him a sympathetic glance and explained, “Taeil-oppa is a man of many secrets.” Which, now that Sicheng thought about it, isn’t actually an explanation at all and only contributed to his confusion.

“But here’s a copy of my schedule,” Taeil continued, handing over a thick stack of papers. “If you ever have any questions, swing by and I’ll be glad to help.”

“Right.”

On the walk back to his desk, Sicheng noticed that Sunyoung was talking on two phones at once while Yuta, who was now back at his desk, was absorbed in an episode of Ouran. Good taste, but was now really the time for anime?

Still, Sicheng swallowed and got back to business. And then, approximately fifteen minutes later, all hell broke loose when Doyoung got his revenge by straight up throwing a book at Ten and Seungwan. The dynamic idiot duo managed to dodge the hit, but they were so enraged they started chasing Doyoung around the room while screaming their heads off. Seriously, how immature. Sicheng would never, not in a million years, stoop down to that level. 

At some point, Jongdae started egging on the fight because he’s a responsible assistant manager like that. Chanyeol opened his door, took a step out, saw the chaos, then promptly went back into his office. 

_What in the actual hell have I gotten myself into?_

“Don’t worry, it’s always like this,” Nakamoto Yuta’s voice suddenly rang out.

Sicheng’s never been jumpy, but he nearly flew out of his chair at the closeness of Yuta’s voice. The Japanese man in question had at some point ditched Haruhi and Tamaki (Sicheng’s always been a Kyouya person, but that’s not important) in favor of leaning against the receptionist’s desk, casually sipping at his coffee as he surveyed the ruckus of the main office. 

Quickly composing himself, Sicheng feigned indifference as he twirled a pen around. “Doesn’t seem like a lot of work gets done here,” he remarked wryly, watching as Seungwan tackled Doyoung to the ground by grabbing his legs.

“Nope,” Yuta agreed easily. “We only actually do stuff half the time and fuck around the other half. Then somehow we manage to meet all our deadlines anyway. One day it’s gonna come back and kick us in the ass, but for now we’re just chilling.”

“I can see that,” Sicheng muttered under his breath. Squinting, he added, “And CEO Kim just lets you all get away with that? Manager Park’s fine with that, too?”

Yuta snorted, nearly spitting out his coffee in the process. Sicheng swore he heard a quiet “How cute” before Yuta turned back to him with an entertained grin. “No need to be so formal, Sichengie. Chanyeol-hyung doesn’t like it when we call him by his title or last name and we’re all pretty casual together. And the CEO doesn’t have any problems with our antics as long as we get shit done eventually. It’s all good.”

_Sichengie?_ “I guess,” Sicheng conceded reluctantly. 

As Seungwan pinned Doyoung down by his legs, Ten bombarded the tech specialist with tickles. Naturally, no one paid attention to Doyoung’s screams and let him suffer alone. 

“Word of advice,” Yuta began, consolingly ruffling Sicheng’s hair which, _what the fuck?_ “Just lean in, Sichengie. Sooner or later you’ll end up like the rest of us.”

Sicheng batted his hand away. “You mean a complete crackhead?”

Yuta smirked. “Something like that.”

“Is he cute?”

The sound of Kun’s teasing voice snaps Sicheng back to reality. Flushing, he frantically fans his face and retorts, “That’s not what matters right now.”

“Sicheng,” Kun deadpans. 

Defensively, Sicheng crosses his arms and grumbles, “Yes.”

“I knew it!” Kun crows. “Ooooooooh, Sicheng’s already got a crush! God, my children grow up so fast.”

“It’s not a crush,” Sicheng argues feebly. So what if he thinks Nakamoto Yuta has a nice voice and pretty face and the most perfect smile to ever exist? That doesn’t necessarily mean Sicheng has a crush! He just met the guy, for crying out loud.

He can hear the smirk in Kun’s voice when the other man speaks up again. “Whatever you say, darling Sichengie,” Kun drawls. “And honestly? I think you’re over-exaggerating because you’re overwhelmed—your coworkers honestly don’t sound that bad. They sound a hell of a lot more fun than the idiots I’ve got employed at my shop. Wouldn’t you rather have some fun than be bored all day?”

Sicheng grits his teeth. “I’m not opposed to fun,” he gripes, well aware that yes, he does sound like a boring old man who never has fun. “It’s just that I’ve never been a part of such a strange environment. Something’s gotta be running in the water on the thirtieth floor, because all of these people are insane.”

“Or maybe they’re carefree adults who just like to have fun instead of hating their job,” Kun suggests sagely.

“Maybe,” Sicheng sighs. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna take a long time for me to get used to being here.”

“Well get used to it fast, because you’re stuck with these people for a while,” Kun singsongs cheerily.

Sicheng just shudders.

Infuriating as it may be to admit it, Kun is, as usual, right. 

It takes approximately one week for Sicheng to resign himself to the strange office shenanigans—particularly whatever that fuckery between the troublemaking trio of Ten, Seungwan, and Yuta is—and another for him to learn to tune it all out entirely. His desk is far enough away that he can pretty much ignore all the weird stuff that happens and he spends a lot of time on the phone anyway, so it works out. And perhaps Sicheng was a little too hasty and judgmental in claiming no one was normal, because some of his coworkers are actually pretty cool.

Despite her husband’s eccentricities, Sunyoung is probably the most levelheaded team member. One day when they were the only ones in the break room, Sicheng got to know her decently well. She showed him pictures of her kids and filled him in on some of the history behind the team. Apparently the team hasn’t had an HR rep ever since Huang Zitao, the former one, left two years ago. Chanyeol’s actually hesitant to hire new people because he’s both nervous about change and fears he’ll make a mistake, so he chooses to either ignore the empty positions or let corporate handle it. In fact, the only reason Sicheng got the job was because Chanyeol was forced to find a new receptionist and he simply picked the first applicant on the stack. It stings a little to learn this, but Sicheng doesn’t mind because he knows he’s still qualified enough anyway.

“The troublemakers aren’t actually that bad,” Sunyoung also informs him. “Sure they’re a bit chaotic, but they’re nothing but cute kids so we let them be. And believe it or not, they’re some of our top rated workers.”

Sicheng can’t help but raise a brow. “Really? I can see that for Seungwan-noona, but Ten-hyung and Yuta-hyung? Sounds fake.”

Laughing, Sunyoung smirks and says, “Well, we only have eleven people on the team, but trust me; those three are all in the top four. Behind me, of course.”

On another occasion, Sicheng’s pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to eat out with Taeil and Sooyoung. “Oppa’s treat,” Sooyoung winks, using Taeil’s shoulder as an arm rest because she’s already taller than him normally but those stilettos only increase her advantage.

“Sadly,” Taeil shakes his head ruefully, yet offers Sicheng a kind smile anyway. “Wanna join? We’re getting Chinese after work and Sooyoung thought you might be feeling homesick or something.”

Normally, Sicheng would have a scathing remark prepared regarding the lack of authenticity in Chinese restaurants outside of China, but Taeil and Sooyoung’s offer warms his icy tsundere heart so much he agrees without hesitation. 

After ordering, they make the usual small talk that, for once, doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Although Taeil and Sooyoung may seem quiet, they’re actually pretty fun. Sooyoung’s sassy and playful manner shines as she holds most of the conversation while Taeil’s considerably quieter but still busts out a surprisingly funny comment every once in a while. 

“—and then Taeil-oppa started spewing stories about the Yeti that were so scary his intern immediately requested to be transferred. We never saw that kid ever again,” Sooyoung chuckles. She holds her hand out for a high-five, which Taeil reciprocates without glancing up from his noodles. “Thank god too, because that was one of the worst interns we’ve ever had to meet.”

“I knew exactly how to scare the little snake away,” Taeil nods solemnly, voice muffled through a mouthful of food.

Admittedly, this Chinese food isn’t half bad. Sicheng gives it a solid 70% on the authenticity scale. Between bites of pork, he asks, “How long have you been together?”

Sooyoung spit takes, spraying water all over the table. “The fuck did you just say?” She demands, staring at Sicheng with horror in her eyes.

Considerably calmer, Taeil slides a few napkins her way and responds with, “Flattering, but we’re actually just friends. Soo here has a long-term boyfriend while I’m single and not ready to mingle.”

“Huh,” is all Sicheng can say in reply. Like Ten and Seungwan, Taeil and Sooyoung’s closeness tricked him into thinking they were dating, but now that he thinks about it, maybe they’re just so close because they’re both relatively sane people who work together. Now he feels kind of bad for making assumptions, but luckily neither of them seem too bothered despite Sooyoung’s violent reaction.

“I do have a boyfriend, and he’s literally the biggest idiot in the world,” Sooyoung laments as she wipes up the table, shooting an apologetic bow a confused waiter’s way. Turning back to Sicheng, she shakes her head and says, “Sungjae’s got these six friends who are all as dumb as he is, which is absolutely wonderful. One of them said he’d show up at our future wedding dressed as a centaur, and the problem is that I don’t doubt he’ll actually do that. Pray for me.”

“Yikes,” Sicheng grimaces sympathetically. “Are they as bad as our trio? Or worse?”

Sooyoung contemplates that for a moment, then nods with a deep sigh. “Definitely worse. Think about it this way—Seungwan and Ten are the only really wacky ones we have, but Sungjae and his friends? They’re the nicest guys ever, sure, but crazy when the seven of them get together. I had to take Sungjae to the ER once because his hyungs convinced him to try and use his forehead to break open a watermelon. Seungwan and Ten are idiots too, but at least they’ve got Yuta to keep them somewhat in check.”

Unwillingly, Sicheng perks up at that last bit of information. “Yuta’s the responsible one?” He blurts out in surprise. “Wasn’t he the one who started the whole food fight in the break room yesterday?”

Taeil shudders at the memory. “Indeed, but believe it or not, he’s only very occasionally like that. Usually Yuta eggs things on instead of initiating them,” he explains.

Sicheng pauses to consider that. He doesn’t know Ten or Seungwan all that well, but from what he’s seen and heard from them they’re both loud and like to bother each other. But Jongdae always refers to a troublemaking _trio_ , and although Ten and Seungwan tend to gang up on Doyoung, it doesn’t seem as if Doyoung’s a part of that group. Taeil’s right; Yuta doesn’t participate much in the whole running around and screaming stuff that the dynamic idiot duo does all the time, but he does make a ton of sassy remarks and hangs out with them an awful lot. Still, though. Yuta definitely isn’t a man of few words, but he’s quiet in comparison to his more chaotic friends.

_Stop psychoanalyzing everything, stupid,_ he scolds, mentally smacking himself upside the head. _There’s no point in wasting so much brainpower on someone you don’t really know._

So with a fixed smile, Sicheng changes the topic to the latest episode of a drama he’s only been half paying attention to, but luckily Taeil and Sooyoung take the bait and switch the conversation.

Just as Sooyoung promised, Taeil pays the bill. But when he pulls out a sleek gold card, Sicheng rather unintelligently blurts out, “Can’t the government track you with that?”

“What?” Taeil blinks, shooting him a bewildered look as the waiter takes off with his card.

A wave of self-consciousness floods over Sicheng, but he forges on anyway. “I mean, you don’t even upload your schedule to the system because you said you don’t want the government to track you down,” he rambles, red creeping up the back of his neck and ears at the amused set to Taeil’s lips and Sooyoung’s snort. “Isn’t a credit card like, one of the easiest ways to be tracked? I just—I just thought you wouldn’t want that to happen, that’s all. Um, sorry if I offended you.”

Sooyoung howls with laughter as she doubles over and slaps Taeil on the forearm. “Damn, you really got him good there, oppa,” she giggles, so breathless her words come out in fragmented gasps.

Sicheng is, as he so often finds himself these days, very confused. “Say what?” He questions blankly. Are Taeil and Sooyoung perhaps not so sane after all? Has he just been fooled?

The corners of Taeil’s lips quirk up in a look that’s not quite amused nor devious, yet definitely _mysterious_. Although he’s the oldest of the younger team members, Taeil’s small stature and youthful face camouflages his age. But sometimes, when Sicheng pays enough attention, he can’t help but think Taeil actually seems quite impish—mischievous sounds a bit too juvenile for him, but _rakish_ isn’t too far off.

Taeil serenely sets his chopsticks down and lifts and lowers one shoulder. “I’ll admit that I’m into conspiracy theories, but that’s all they are: theories. I don’t actually care whether the government can track me down or whatever, and I honestly don’t actually believe any of that stuff is real,” he confesses without a trace of shame.

Sicheng frowns, cocking his head to the side. “So why don’t you upload your schedule then? Why bother pretending?” He points out slowly.

“Oh, it’s a great answer,” Sooyoung grins, clutching at her midriff as she laughs.

Once again, Taeil merely shrugs. “I just like screwing with people,” he explains as simply as can be.

Of all things to expect, that certainly wasn’t one of them. Sicheng’s frown only deepens as he struggles to comprehend Taeil’s straightforward yet complex answer. Who in their right mind would pretend to be some crazy conspiracy loony just for shits and giggles? Why on earth would Taeil sacrifice his dignity for a prank?

As if he could read Sicheng’s mind, Taeil’s mouth thins to a line and he gently says, “Quite frankly, I really don’t care what others think about me. As far as I’m concerned, people can call me crazy or weird or an alien and it doesn’t mean a damn thing because I know myself. If I know I’m none of those things, then why should I care what others think?”

“Besides,” he adds with the smallest of smirks. “If they think I’m odd then they’ll let their guards down around me, which in turn helps me gather more blackmail material. Win-win situation.”

Truthfully, Sicheng still doesn’t exactly get it, but Taeil has a point. He must be awfully self-confident and assured to care so little about what others think, so Sicheng can commend him for that much. It’s a rather interesting stance on life—not one that Sicheng thinks he could ever manage, but an interesting one nonetheless.

The thought plagues him for the next few days as he observes the office dynamics with a more critical eye. On the off chance someone goes over to customer relations, Taeil only responds with an airheaded smile and some light comment. Sooyoung then picks it up with what Sicheng assumes is a smart retort, and once their victim has fled the duo clink coffee cups that are probably spiked with wine coolers and drink to their success. 

In a way, Taeil and Sooyoung remind him of a slyer and considerably scarier version of Ten and Seungwan. Whereas the latter pair is unashamedly loud and disorderly, the former pair hides unexpectedly devious personalities under unassuming facades. And for some reason, they’ve chosen to let Sicheng of all people in on the sham. Ever since that one dinner, Taeil and Sooyoung have more or less adopted Sicheng, always inviting him out for coffee or meals. He even briefly met Sungjae, Sooyoung’s boyfriend one time, which probably shows how much they consider him to be their friend. Why? Sicheng’s not sure, but he has a feeling it’s because kindred spirits tend to seek one another out.

“I can literally hear the gears in your brain whirring, y’know.”

Ah, yes. Then there’s also _that_ —or rather, _a certain someone_ —consuming Sicheng’s every waking hour.

Nakamoto Yuta.

Boyishly, Yuta leans over the counter and rests his chin on top of his crossed arms. He tilts his head and inquires, “Penny for your thoughts?”

_We don’t use pennies here_. “Sorry, my thoughts are kinda expensive,” Sicheng replies, purposefully averting his gaze and busying himself with straightening a stack of papers.

“I see,” Yuta hums, and it shouldn’t set every single one of Sicheng’s nerves on fire but it does because somehow, he thinks Yuta actually does see. 

Speaking of people who hide more intriguing complexities under a carefree surface: Nakamoto Yuta may have everyone including his two best friends fooled, but Sicheng doesn’t buy it. Not completely, at least.

It’s become somewhat of a routine for Yuta to swing by every day with a cup of coffee in hand and a beaming smile on his face. At first Sicheng would try his best to ignore him, but he’d be a liar if he claimed to not be interested in Yuta. He doesn’t think Yuta’s a, what’s that word, _yandere_ , per se, but there’s definitely something underneath that smiley exterior. Sicheng always tells himself to not get involved when things don’t concern himself, but he can’t help it; he wants to figure Nakamoto Yuta out.

That being said, he has no idea where to start. And Yuta, like always, ends up catching him off guard.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Sicheng,” he says as casually as if he were talking about the weather. “I think you’re pretty cute and I’m probably gonna develop a crush on you soon if I haven’t already.”

The only way to sum up Sicheng’s current state of mind? A sea of white blankness or, in simpler terms, nothing at all. Or, perhaps a straight-to-the-point, _WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?_

“We’ve known each other for like, a month,” Sicheng manages out in a strangled, garbled croak. _Literally what the fuck literally what the fuck literally what the fuck literally what the fuck literally what the fuck.._

Unfazed, Yuta has the nerve to lean even closer and cheerfully state, “Exactly. So tell me now if you think I have a chance. If not, I’ll get over it and I won’t bother you again.”

_I repeat: literally what the fuck what the actual fuck._

Sicheng ducks his head to hide the red on his cheeks. “T-that’s pretty unfair, hyung,” he protests, curling and uncurling his hands into fists. “You can’t just drop bombshells like that and expect me to be able to answer.”

“I know,” Yuta shrugs evenly. “I’m not trying to like, shove you into a corner or anything. I just thought you should know.”

“And you thought this was the best way to tell me?” Sicheng splutters, his perfect poker face shattered as he weakly flounders his hands around.

With one last mischievous grin, Yuta pulls himself back up to a standing position, murmurs, “Then consider that a pre-confession,” and saunters back to his episode of One Piece.

_Literally. What. The. Actual. Fuck._

When he gets home that night, the first thing he does is pick up the phone and deliver a passionate, lengthy recount of the traumatizing event to his number one confidante. And instead of sympathizing with him and offering some quality advice, Qian fucking Kun laughs his head off.

“Oh my god,” Kun gasps, out of breath from laughing so hard. “Oh my fucking god, Sichengie. What kind of drama do you live in?”

“Not helpful!” Sicheng groans.

Kun snorts so hard Sicheng sincerely hopes his idiotic best friend turns into a pig. “This is fucking gold—hey Yangyang! Come here!”

“Don’t you dare get the kids involved!”

“Hiya, ge!” Yangyang’s cheerful timbre chirps over the speaker. “How’s Korea?”

Sicheng grits his teeth and internally curses Kun to hell and back. “Peachy,” he grunts, resisting the temptation to tell his youngest child to get the hell out so he can continue complaining at full steam.

“He got confessed to today!” Kun, that snake, has the audacity to out him like that.

“Ooooh! Who is it, ge? Is he cute?” Yangyang demands excitedly.

_Go to hell, Qian Kun._ “He didn’t confess to me. Not really,” Sicheng grumbles. It’s not exactly a lie, since _pre-confession_ isn’t the same thing as a real confession. “He’s just…confusing, that’s all.”

“In other words, Sicheng’s too scared to admit he might actually like this guy so he’s refusing to get to know him, but even that’s not working,” Kun chimes in, and Sicheng doesn’t need to see him to know there’s a shit-eating grin plastered over Kun’s dumb face right now.

Yangyang lets out a noise of understanding. “Ahhhh. Sounds complicated,” he comments with utmost seriousness. “But why don’t you want to like him back? Is he not cute enough?”

_He’s more than cute enough, thank you very much._ “Because I came here for the life opportunities, not to find a boyfriend,” Sicheng feebly explains, well aware of just how dumb of an excuse that is.

Kun seems to think so as well. “No shit, Sherlock. No sane person would run to another country just to find love, and as much as I question you sometimes, you’re unfortunately the most levelheaded person I know.”

“But that begs the question,” Kun continues with a lowered voice. “How’s this Yuta guy already gotten you so wound up? That’s gotta mean something.”

“Sicheng-ge is whipped!” Yangyang contributes helpfully.

“I hate both of you,” Sicheng mutters venomously.

He can practically hear Kun roll his eyes. “Oh come on, Sicheng. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: You need to relax. Stop being so uptight and just lean in. If this guy makes you feel flustered because of his flirting, then there’s only one solution.”

That’s rich, coming from the one who’s so strict he yells at the chefs in his shop at least ten times a day. But Sicheng decides to humor him anyway. “Yeah? And what’s that?” He asks, just the tiniest bit curious himself.

“You’ve got to flirt back.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You know, I’m actually ethnically Chinese.”

Sicheng blinks very, very, slowly. “Okay? Good for you, I guess.”

Unfazed, Ten hops up to sit on the receptionist’s desk, much to Sicheng’s chagrin. “Yup. I can’t speak Mandarin for shit though, even though I wish I could,” he nods solemnly, swinging his short legs in the air like a child.

Who even is this guy? “You didn’t really come here to tell me about your ethnicity, did you?” Sicheng states point blank. “So what’s really up?”

Ten shrugs his slim shoulders (why is everyone here so fricking carefree and nonchalant?). He’s cute too, now that Sicheng’s finally got a closer look. A bit on the shorter side, and his almost comically high-pitched voice doesn’t quite match his face, but Sicheng rather likes Ten’s cat-like eyes and pointed nose. Not his type (besides, Ten looks like someone who has a thing for super tall and broad guys), but he knows how to appreciate an attractive person when he sees one.

“I’m bored,” Ten explains simply. “Usually I’d go fuck around with Seungwan or Yuta, but they’re both at meetings right now so I can’t. And messing with Dons isn’t any fun without backup, so I thought I’d keep you company. Looks like it gets lonely over here.”

Holding back a dry comment on how he actually prefers to not have any company, Sicheng forces himself to humor Ten for now. “Sounds like a hard life,” he jokes lamely.

“It really is,” Ten sighs dramatically. “I’m bored, single, my best friend is always lovey-dovey with his boyfriend which just reminds me of how single I am, and now I don’t have anyone to annoy. A sad life indeed.”

And then, completely without any warning, Ten launches into his entire life story from his childhood in Thailand to coming to Korea for university and developing a one-sided crush on his dance teammate to hopping around jobs until he eventually made his way to Taeng&Co. During a story about that one time he went clubbing with his best friend on his birthday, Ten straight up lies down on the desk and scatters Sicheng’s carefully arranged papers. But he doesn’t even notice Sicheng’s squawk and instead launches into another story of the time he, Seungwan, and Yuta got super drunk and—

“Will you please shut up?” Sicheng demands, finally having had enough. It’s not that he dislikes or doesn’t care about Ten’s back story, but _did he fucking ask?_

“Oops,” Ten sticks his tongue out without any real sign of sheepishness. “Sorry, I ramble a lot when I’m bored.”

_I can see that_. “It’s fine,” Sicheng sighs, massaging his temples where he can feel the beginnings of a headache sprouting. He spares a mournful glance at his messily strewn papers, deciding that it’s better to quit while he’s ahead on that specific task. “I’m just not a very talkative person, that’s all. And I’m not used to being talked at that much, either.”

Like a cat, Ten tilts his head to the side and inquisitively stares at Sicheng in a manner that’s not exactly scrutinizing, but _childish_ —as if he can see through him the way only children view the world. “But don’t you talk to Yuta-hyung every day?” Ten points out, tone laced with curiosity.

Privately, Sicheng decides he prefers a scrutinizing stare over a childish one. “Not reeeeeeeeeeally,” he denies, stretching the word out to stall for time and allow himself to think more. Sadly, the only intellectual answer he can come up with is an uncertain, “I mean, kinda? But also, no?”

Something in the way Ten studies him makes Sicheng squirm. There’s nothing shrewd or calculating in his gaze; Ten simply sees things as they are, even if he himself doesn’t realize it.

“Yuta-hyung’s a friendly guy, but he usually doesn’t go out of his way to talk to people unless he’s interested in them in some way,” Ten remarks, going back to kicking his legs in the air without a care in the world. “He doesn’t really talk to anyone about his feelings and that stuff, either. Sometimes I feel like I hardly know him.”

Sicheng’s mouth runs dry. “I’m sure it’s not like that,” he attempts to argue, but the words come out sounding fake. What does he even know about Yuta, anyway? Other than the brief five minute conversations they have every day and that one odd pre-confession, he doesn’t know jack shit about the guy.

He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to know more, though.

“Eh,” Ten shrugs, carefree as always. “I’m not too pressed about it though. ‘Cause like, he’s not obligated to tell me everything, you know? We’ve all got our secrets anyway, so I respect his privacy. At the end of the day, hyung and I are still friends, which I think is enough.”

_But is it really?_ Sicheng almost says out loud. But before he can, Ten catches sight of something in the distance and perks up. “Noona, you’re back!” He cries out in delight, scampering off of the desk and dashing towards Seungwan. “About fucking time! Things are so boring here without you.”

“How flattering,” Seungwan responds sarcastically.

Sicheng just watches them bicker with a small smile. Somehow, he has a feeling Ten’s already forgotten about their rather odd conversation.

Contrary to popular—ahem, Kun—belief, Sicheng is not actually an uptight workaholic. He’s driven and determined, yes, but not to an unhealthy extent. After a bad incident in college when he pulled too many all-nighters in a row and had to be rushed to the hospital, he’s learned the hard way to never push himself too much again. And no, he is not opposed to love or afraid of commitment; he’s just not interested in a relationship at the moment when there are other things higher on his priority list.

At least, that’s what he thought when he first arrived in Korea. Because somehow, Nakamoto Yuta has knocked his priorities all out of order.

The only time they ever really interact is when Yuta drops by for his daily kind-of-bother-kind-of-flirt session that never last for more than five minutes but still leave Sicheng in an awkward, cloudy haze for at least another hour. Screw the stupid man, really. All he has to do is flash that beautiful smile and suddenly the world gets knocked upside down. Sicheng can’t even say for sure what Yuta’s personality is—flirty? Confident? Persistent? Just a nice person who’s trying to make his coworker feel more welcome? None of the above?—because he’s too distracted by that damn electric grin.

It’s that disturbing thought that eventually drives Sicheng to blurt, “Tell me about yourself!” like the desperate fool he is when Yuta shows up at his desk a few days later. The second the words escape Sicheng already regrets it and wishes he could have a time machine so he could change his past and never leave China, but it’s too late and he’s got to deal with the consequences of his stupidity.

Yuta pauses, coffee cup halfway up to his lips. Something unreadable flickers across his face as he tentatively takes a sip, regarding Sicheng with wary eyes. “What do you want to know?” He raises a brow, tilting his head in curiosity.

_Abort. Abort. Fucking abort mission._ “Just…stuff,” Sicheng smiles widely, internally cringing and wishing death upon himself. “Like, uhhhhhh, your life, I guess?” Maybe if he smiles wider, Yuta will be so blinded by his charm that he doesn’t notice how painfully awkward Sicheng is acting. That, or Yuta will read right through him and realize how much of a loser he actually is. “I just, um, realized I don’t know much about you, and I want to. Because I want to get to know you better. Y’know. That stuff.” 

Good lord, could he please be sucked into a black hole right about now? _Please?_

Yuta’s grin is all too knowing and all too smug that Sicheng really, _really_ wishes he’d kept his mouth shut. Thankfully though, the former takes pity on him by taking another sip of coffee to hide his grin, sparing Sicheng from losing any more of his sanity.

“I’m not all that interesting,” Yuta shrugs, lifting and lowering his shoulders in one fluid motion. His fingers tap against his mug as he continues to say, “Born and raised in Osaka with my two sisters, came to Korea for university because why the hell not? Decided I liked it a lot here so I stayed. I hit the jackpot in getting this job here right after graduating and life has been pretty uneventful ever since. See? Not that interesting, right?”

_Only because you’re not telling me the full story_. “Can’t judge when I’m pretty boring myself,” Sicheng replies lightly, forcing himself to tone down the creepy factor of his smile. “Which university did you go to? I spent a year at Sejong as an exchange student.”

“Oooh, that’s cool. I studied at Konkuk. Almost dropped out at one point, but luckily I managed to get my shit together and got that diploma.”

“Almost dropped out?” Sicheng parrots, knitting his brows together in concern. As someone who studied his ass off all throughout his schooling years—no, he isn’t that big of a nerd like Kun tells people; he’s just committed and studious—he can’t even imagine voluntarily stopping. Of course he understands that school isn’t for everyone and each person has their own problems going on, but Sicheng’s the type of guy to force himself through anything no matter how much it sucks. Perhaps that’s his biggest weakness--that he’s too afraid of veering off the path so he sticks with whatever he’s got going for him despite how much he may dislike it.

The corners of Yuta’s mouth tug up ruefully. “I was a bit too wild when I left Osaka. Partied hard, drank plenty, slept with a few people too many, got my heart broken more times than I would’ve liked—name a cliché and I’ve done it. Got myself in some odd situations that were pretty fun at the time, but now I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I was pretty naive back then, which made me become someone I wasn’t exactly proud of despite how much of a good time I had.”

“But, well, that’s just life,” he chuckles, wistfully staring into his coffee cup. “You only learn after making mistakes, as my dad always tells me. So even though my college years were a bit crazy and I definitely wouldn’t do any of that again, I still look back on them as fun times. Always look at the positive, you get me?”

Whatever Sicheng had been expecting out of this conversation, he certainly never would’ve predicted all _that_. Yuta barely shared anything at all and definitely not enough for Sicheng to get a real picture of who he is, but the limited information he did spill helps everything else kind of make sense. 

_Partied hard, drank plenty, slept a few people too many, got my heart broken more times I would’ve liked_. It’s the classic university cliché where students go wild in an attempt to explore new things and “find themselves”, whatever that may mean. Judging by the wry set to Yuta’s mouth, perhaps he ventured a little too far. And maybe that’s why he’s the way he is now—friendly and outgoing, but still clearly closed off and secretive. Maybe he’s just trying to protect himself from repeating the same mistakes instead of learning from them.

Or maybe Sicheng’s all wrong and shouldn’t be speculating this much on someone he, once again, still doesn’t really know. Because the only way to find real answers? Actually getting to know Nakamoto Yuta for real, not just in these five minute windows.

“Hyung,” Sicheng says before he can lose confidence. “Do you maybe want to go out some time?”

His bravery nearly flies out the window when Yuta’s only reaction is a knowing smile. “Are you asking me out, Sichengie?”

_Fuck fuck fuck abort abort abort fuuuuuuck._

“It’s just to get to know each other better!” Sicheng insists hurriedly, heart beating so rapidly he’s afraid he may actually pass out. Then, because it finally hits him how out of character this is and he’s still got a tsundere image to maintain, he grabs at Yuta’s wrist in desperation and adds, “Don’t tell anyone! I-I’m not good at these things and I don’t want to feel like everyone knows just yet, so please don’t say anything!”

“I haven’t even said yes yet,” Yuta points out playfully.

_A-fucking-bort_. _End me now or better yet, make sure I was never born in the first place. Curse you, Qian Kun. Curse you for everything, you piece of shit. When I die I’m coming back for the sole purpose of haunting you for implanting false ideas in my head and making me ask this guy out._

“Okay then,” he huffs, angrily averting his eyes to the floor. “Well in that case forget everything I just said. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

The next thing he knows, Yuta’s doubled over laughing so hard Sicheng thinks his back might break (and the fool would 100% deserve it). “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be that sensitive, Sicheng,” Yuta chortles, glee scribbled all across his stupidly pretty face and Sicheng is highly tempted to punch him and quit his job entirely.

Once he’s composed himself, Yuta locks eyes with Sicheng and, with a smile so bright Sicheng swears he sees electric sparks dancing between his lips, says, “I’d love to go out with you, Sichengie. Consider it our little secret for now.”

If he weren’t already before, Sicheng is well and truly fucked.

Taeil raises a brow so high it disappears into his hairline. “So let me get this straight,” he speaks slowly, eyes so piercing Sicheng squirms from the sheer amount of judgment radiating out of the small man. “You’ve been seeing Yuta in secret for over a year now and spend more time at his apartment than your own, yet you don’t want people to know because a) you don’t want your personal and professional lives to interfere too much, b) you suck at relationships and are too afraid to take things to the next step, and c) you’re an emotionally constipated idiot who cares way too much about keeping his reputation as a tsundere?”

Next to him, Sooyoung guffaws through a mouthful of her burger while still managing to look as beautiful as ever. “Don’t forget that he’s only telling us because we heard noise coming from the make out closet and found them with their hands down each others’ pants,” she adds with a cheeky smirk.

Sicheng’s ears redden at that particular memory. Only ten seconds later and Taeil and Sooyoung would’ve walked in on a far more risqué scene. For the collective sanity of all four parties involved, he’s glad they managed to avoid that unfortunate fate. 

There’s not much Sicheng fears in life, but Moon Taeil’s narrowed, unimpressed stare under the crappy lighting of a McDonalds has him regretting just about every life decision he’s ever made. “I’ve overestimated you, Sicheng. Turns out you’re just as much of an idiot as the rest of us,” Taeil declares flatly, dipping a fry into ketchup with more vengeance than Sicheng ever thought possible.

Without waiting for a response, Taeil shoves the fry in his mouth and says, “I mean, seriously? I don’t even care about you not telling us even though we’re your best friends—don’t deny it, you know we are—because that’s understandable, but what I’m really struggling to understand is how the hell you and Nakamoto Yuta of all people are together. Don’t you ignore him all the time in the office and—oh my!” He gasps, eyes wide in realization. “Don’t tell me you’ve only been pretending to hate him all this time so no one will suspect a thing. Oh dear lord, please tell me you’re not that bullheaded, Sicheng.”

“What?” Sicheng responds, crossing his arms and lowering his chin defensively. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Taeil lets out a pained groan as he theatrically bangs his head against the booth seat. “You’re actually so stupid. Oh my god, you’re literally the stupidest person alive and I don’t know why I ever took you under my wing and paid for all your meals and did my best job as a hyung to guide you only for you to make such dumb life choices. This is it, Sichengie. I don’t know how much longer I can associate with you.”

“Oh, please,” Sooyoung scoffs. “You couldn’t ditch him if you wanted to, oppa. You’ve got too much of a soft spot for Sicheng and you know it.”

“The unfortunate truth,” Taeil admits grudgingly, peering at Sicheng with the weariness of a tired father. “Doesn’t mean I asked to put up with his tsundere ass like this, though.”

Sooyoung tosses her empty burger wrapper onto the tray. “So we’re the only ones who know?” She inquires, sneakily stealing a few of Taeil’s fries while the eldest rethinks his entire life.

Sicheng’s chicken sandwich has long since gone cold, but he takes another bite of it anyway. “My friends back home were the first to know, and I think Yuta-hyung told his sisters. Oh,” he suddenly remembers with a grimace. “That new HR guy knows, too. He caught us making out in the closet on his first day. We asked him not to tell anyone, but I think he’s probably already forgotten about us because he spends more time staring at Ten’s ass anyway.”

Taeil’s eye twitches. “So in conclusion, a decent number of people know and don’t find it weird that you and Yuta are together? Are Soo and I the only ones who don’t understand?”

“Nah, I get it,” Sooyoung disagrees. She drags a hand through her long ponytail and remarks, “Yuta’s all playful on the outside but reserved on the inside, while Sicheng’s cold on the outside but soft and awkward on the inside. Believe it or not, they sound like a good match. Kinda like that Yin and Yang stuff.”

“I guess you’re right,” Taeil concedes, although he still doesn’t sound quite convinced. Then he pauses and, with horror, adds, “Wait, but Yuta’s like, best friends with Seungwan and Ten, AKA the less cunning versions of me and Sooyoung. Just wait until those two eventually find out—all hell will freeze over and there won’t be anything you can do to stop it.”

The thought of the dynamic idiot duo finding out about his relationship sends a chill down his spine. “I’ll beat them up if they ever find out,” Sicheng announces bleakly. 

“I’d go after Ten if I were you. Seungwan may be smaller and shorter but she’s fucking vicious. Ten would just run because he’s a pacifist who can’t do any more than throw a pencil, except he’s not actually that fast despite his dancer legs so it shouldn’t be too hard to catch up to him,” Sooyoung advises wisely.

“Good to know.”

“More importantly,” Taeil coughs. “Please explain, dear Sichengie, exactly how you and Yuta have been keeping this secret for so long. It’s not that I don’t support your relationship because Yuta’s a good guy, but I’m just so confused.”

Honestly? Sicheng himself doesn’t even know. He remembers getting coffee with Yuta a few days after asking him out, and then all of a sudden it’s been fourteen months of dates, making out, sleeping over at each others’ places, and subtle looks, hand holds, and sneaking off to the closet at the office when no one else is around. Sicheng bought a car after getting his Korean driver’s license a few months back, and since then he’s driven with Yuta to and from work every day. Hell, he probably only sleeps in his own bed once a week because Yuta’s is much more comfortable. And not to mention how nice Yuta’s shower is, too—all those temperature, pressure, and bubble controls literally take Sicheng to heaven.

Buuuuuuut…despite it all, there’s just one little thing they probably should’ve figured out a long time ago but still haven’t: Are they boyfriends?

It’s not like Sicheng’s a commitophobe—well, _kinda_ —who’s terrified of the b-word, but the topic just…never came up. Sicheng knows he sucks at relationships and doesn’t even know how to bring up the topic, whereas Yuta hasn’t once mentioned nor seemed bothered by it, either. On one hand they already do everything that boyfriends would do, just without the added label. But on the other hand, that makes Sicheng all the more unsure because what if Yuta doesn’t want to label whatever they have? What if they’re really just a casual thing? What if Sicheng’s been completely misreading the situation the whole time? What if—

“Stop. I can hear your overthinking from here,” Taeil clicks his tongue in disapproval. 

Sicheng ducks his head, cursing himself for worrying too much. “Sorry, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Sooyoung taps at her chin. “Let me guess: because you’re both stupid, you haven’t fully talked through your relationship. Right?” She guesses.

“I’m that transparent?” Sicheng jokes weakly. Appetite completely gone, he sets down his cold sandwich and awkwardly shifts in his seat.

“Oh no, it’s not just that,” Sooyoung shakes her head. She clasps her hands together and rests her chin on top, the ring on her fourth finger gleaming in the dim light. Mouth pursed, she delicately explains, “Neither of us know Yuta all that well, but we’ve known him longer than you have. He’s a good guy and we like him enough, but he’s always been a bit of a wild card. Like, you can never really tell what he’s thinking or feeling even though he’s nice and usually smiling. The only ones here who actually seem close to him are Ten and Seungwan, but if you ask me it looks like those two are much closer to each other than they are to Yuta.”

She’s not wrong. Sicheng thinks back to the time Ten hung out at the front desk with him on a whim. When Ten admitted, _Sometimes I feel like I hardly know him_. Ten, who’s open and honest to a fault and wears his heart on his sleeve and can see the truth in everyone whether he’s aware of it or not, has trouble figuring Yuta out. In that case, how could Sicheng, who psychoanalyzes and stresses until his hair turns gray, ever dream of doing so? Where does he even start?

“You’re overthinking again,” Taeil chastises sternly. “Stop doing that; it’s bad for you and your remaining braincells.”

Sicheng groans, collapsing onto the table that definitely hasn’t been wiped clean but he’s too defeated to care. “I just don’t know exactly what we are,” he confesses quietly. “And I’m afraid that if I ask him, I might end up losing him.”

He thinks he knows why Yuta hides behind a facade now—why Taeil and Sooyoung do to a certain extent, too: Because when you bare less of yourself to the world, you’re less likely to get hurt.

“Hey,” Sooyoung’s gentle voice breaks Sicheng away from his thoughts. A slim hand clasps over his, and when he looks up, Sooyoung’s watching him with warm, nurturing eyes. “You’ll be just fine, Sichengie. Relationships are scary and no one’s good at them, but it’s all about communication and taking things one step at a time. Day by day, we get better at working things out.”

Taeil nods in agreement. He too reaches out to cover Sicheng’s hand in his and simply remarks, “There’s nothing you can do except ask him, Sicheng.”

Sicheng’s sensitive little tsundere heart swells and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Odd as they may be, Taeil and Sooyoung are such kind, understanding, and mature people who generously took him under their wing when he was antisocial and new. They’ve dragged him out to dinners, bars, and even each others’ apartments for movie nights in an effort to help him adapt to his life in Korea, and Sicheng doesn’t know where he’d be without them. Kun may still be his number one, but these two are great best friends, too.

“Um, excuse me?” A timid voice nervously coughs. The trio glance up in unison to find a college-aged kid with the McDonalds visor clutching at a mop and staring at them in bewilderment.

“Sorry, but can you have this heart to heart somewhere else? We’re closing in two minutes.”

“I missed you last night,” Yuta pouts, resting his chin on top of Sicheng’s desktop computer.

“Off,” Sicheng reprimands, flicking at his _not-exactly-boyfriend-yet-but-also-more-than-just-dating_ ’s chin because there’s nothing he hates more than getting face oils and prints on his pristine screens. “And I missed you too, but those two literally whisked me off to get shitty fast food at midnight. Nothing much I could’ve done since both of them would’ve kicked my ass if I’d resisted.”

Yuta laughs as he detaches himself from the computer. “They totally would’ve. Soo would’ve stabbed you with her heels while Taeil-hyung poked you to death.”

“That imagery is way too disturbing and now you’ve ruined my day so I’m going to ignore you,” Sicheng wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Oh, you know you love me,” Yuta jabs back effortlessly.

Sicheng’s fingers slip and he nearly Command Q’s his unsaved Word document. How does Yuta just let the L-word slip so easily, and why does he think that’s okay when it causes Sicheng’s heart to do more flips than an Olympic gymnast? Who the hell does he think he is? Sicheng’s boyfriend?

Oh, right. _Right_. Yep.

_Just ask him already, you fucking fool_. 

Keeping his eyes trained on the line of characters he’s in the middle of typing, Sicheng bites down on his bottom lip and contemplates the best way to bring up the subject. _So how much do you like me? Enough to be boyfriends? Or are you just playing with me? Did your pre-confession come true? Are you ready to confess to me to real? Or do you want me to confess first? What the hell are we, hyung?_

He’s about to open his mouth and just wing it, but, as luck would have it, the storm that is Hurricane Ten dashes in and smacks Yuta on the back of his head.

“Hey, bitch. HR guy needs to see you,” the infiltrator explains, trying and failing to keep his voice calm and unaffected at the mention of temporary newb Johnny Seo. Sicheng, however, sees right through him and his obvious nervousness around the HR rep. He found out about the rather frustrating history between Johnny and Ten from Sooyoung, and although Sicheng usually doesn't like getting involved in things like this, he's actually quite intrigued.

Eyes wide, Yuta exclaims, “What the fuck? Shit, am I in trouble already? How the hell did he already find out about—”

Luckily or unluckily, the phone rings and distracts Sicheng from the idiots in front of him. Just as he picks it up, however, he hears Ten flatly announce, “Yeah, he found out about that time you were a pornstar and wants to fire you.”

_What._

Externally, Sicheng’s perfect poker face works its magic as he remains calm and composed on the phone, answering and posing each question with the right timing while seemingly ignoring Ten and Yuta. Internally, however? That’s a different story, because if a mindreader took a look inside his head, they’d just find the word _pornstar_ bouncing around and echoing in that now hollow skull of his.

“That was _one time,_ okay,” Yuta hisses under his breath, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of Sicheng knowing. Well, too late. Blame Ten and his high-pitched voice that pierces through everything.

“Sure thing, _Yukkuri_ ,” Ten retorts with an impish smirk.

“It was just to pay the bills! Oh my fucking god—I swear to god, Ten. One of these days I will fucking skin you alive and leave you to the dogs.”

Seungwan appears at that point, which Sicheng takes as a sign to completely tune out the troublemaking trio. Not that that’s very hard, because currently his mind has hit absolute rock bottom.

_Yuta. Pornstar. Yukkuri. Pornstar. Yuta. Pornstar. Yukkuri. Pornstar. Yuta. Pornstar. Yukkuri. Yuta…_

Silently, he excuses himself from his desk and slips away unnoticed to the bathroom. The instant the stall door is safely locked, Sicheng closes the toilet lid and sits on top of it, then pulls out his phone with trembling fingers. He’s shaking so hard he can barely type the right characters, but once they’re in the search bar his thumb hits the enter key like it has a mind of its own and there’s officially no going back.

_You’re going to hell for this. You’re so, so, so going to hell for this. Hell is your only home now. You’re going to hell. Oh, you’re so going to hell. Hell. Hell. Hell. Hell hell hell hell hell hell hellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhell_

Five minutes later, he emerges from the stall with deader eyes than usual. As he splashes cold water onto his face to will away any _compromising_ _images_ , Jongdae enters the bathroom.

“Oh, hey Sicheng,” the assistant manager greets casually. “How are you doing?”

Sicheng is too done to sugarcoat the truth. “I’m going to hell,” he proclaims morbidly.

Jongdae doesn’t even bat an eye as he deadpans, “Yeah? Get in line, kiddo.”

_I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. Hell. Hell. Hell. Hell hell hell hell hell hell hellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhellhell._

Well, if he’s going, he may as well drag everyone else down with him, too.

“Hyung,” Sicheng calls before Jongdae can disappear into a stall. “You ever heard of Yuta-hyung’s one day stint as a pornstar?”

Later, when it’s just the two of them in Yuta’s apartment, Sicheng snatches the older man by his tie and drags him to the bedroom. “So I saw your porn video earlier,” he begins nonchalantly.

Yuta swears under his breath. “I was a broke college senior and the bills needed to be paid, okay?” He swallows nervously, then goes on to say, “And I didn’t even like that guy anyway. He was too stiff and awkward and—why am I even telling you this anyway? Oh my god, this is so weird now.”

“Can it,” Sicheng grumbles, shoving Yuta down on top of the bed. His face is probably red as fire right now, but he’s already gone this far and there’s no going back. Hell is his destination, and there are no round trips. 

“Besides,” he mentions as casually as he's capable of acting. “I think you’d have a much better time if you tried that with a boyfriend. A very flexible boyfriend, might I add.”

Yuta’s eyes widen so much they bug out of his head. “Did you just say what I think you just said?” He demands excitedly, staring at Sicheng in amazement and a bit of foolish giddiness. Oh god, this is what love actually is, isn’t it? This is what it all boils down to? _This_ bullshit?

Sicheng manages out one last “Shut up” before he captures Yuta’s lips against his.

_Dong Sicheng to Qian Kun_

_Dong Sicheng: I have good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?_

_Qian Kun: Oh this sounds interesting._

_Qian Kun: Let’s go with bad news._

_Dong Sicheng: Bad news: I’m going to hell_

_Qian Kun: Well we all already suspected as much_

_Dong Sicheng: Fuck you, ge_

_Dong Sicheng: Good news: I have a boyfriend now_

_Qian Kun: The fuck?_

_Dong Sicheng: More bad news: Neither of us can walk right now_

“You know, if you wanted clarification all you had to do was ask, Sichengie.”

“Speak another word and we’re never doing any of that again.”

“Yes, sir.”

_Son Seungwan: Wait, so you’re telling me it took your one time porn stunt to get him to finally admit his feelings and establish an official relationship with you?_

_Nakamoto Yuta: Well when you put it that way…_

_Son Seungwan: I need new friends._


	2. the office goes to hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Flight inspired me to finish this. In this house we love Taeyong and all his antis can go choke :)
> 
> Some quick notes at the end, but for now enjoy!

“Well, that went pretty well.”

Sicheng bangs his head against the steering wheel, only to recoil back when the sound of his horn blares through the parking garage. “That most certainly did not go well,” he mutters through gritted teeth, busy plotting his next move against a certain Thai twink.

Yuta giggles—fucking _giggles_ like a child—and reaches out to gently smooth Sicheng’s ruffled hair. “You really didn’t have to attack Ten like that. I thought you were gonna kill him until Jongdae finally pulled you off.”

An embarrassed flush travels up Sicheng’s neck to his ears. “Perhaps I overreacted just a bit,” he begrudgingly acknowledges, the slightest twinge of guilt stinging his conscience. Ten may be a fool with chronic foot in the mouth syndrome, but at the end of the day he’s nothing but a sweet, well-intentioned guy whose obliviousness just happens to be his major downfall. “But to be fair, it’s not like either you or Johnny tried to stop me. Some boyfriends you are, huh?”

“It’s because neither of us have the balls to challenge an angry Dong Sicheng,” Yuta counters with a jocular grin. 

“So you’re basically admitting that the only person with real balls in the office is Jongdae-hyung?” Sicheng raises a brow in skepticism. 

“I mean, isn’t that just common knowledge at this point?”

“What about Sunyoung-noona?”

“Ooh, you raise a good point. I think Seungwan does, too. Have you _seen_ that woman beat up Ten?”

“Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“What in the actual hell are we talking about?”

Objectively speaking, Sicheng finds Yuta’s laugh rather unattractive. His eyes crinkle too much at the corners and his mouth is open way too wide and he doubles over as if punched in the gut and the sound that escapes past his lips is far too loud and booming and really, what the hell is the guy so happy for? But subjectively speaking? Seeing Yuta bursting into fits of glee is the damn near equivalent of Cupid shooting an arrow into Sicheng’s closed off, tsundere heart.

“You’re too cute, Sichengie,” Yuta guffaws, eyes shining with fondness as he weaves his fingers through Sicheng’s dark hair—and if Sicheng reflexively leans into his touch and closes his eyes in contentment, that’s no one’s business. 

“There’s no need to be so flustered, you know,” his boyfriend continues in a soothing tone. “We’re still us, just public now. And it looks like half the office already knew anyway, so it’s really not all that bad. Unless I’m too embarrassing to be around, that is.”

If Sicheng were a little less self-conscious or didn’t know Yuta as well as he does, he would’ve missed the smallest hint of an edge to his boyfriend’s voice. Over the course of their a little under two year long secret relationship, he’s come to learn that although the confident and outgoing external Yuta is very much real, so is a much less assured and hesitant internal Yuta who fears getting hurt above all else. The only problem is that Yuta’s good at hiding that part of him—too good, in Sicheng’s opinion. Sometimes Yuta will blink a few times too many or falter in his steps too casually or bite down on his lip just a little too hard, and whenever Sicheng sees that he knows there’s something wrong. 

It’s times like these when Sicheng realizes he isn’t the only one who’s unsure when it comes to love, because Yuta sure as hell isn’t an expert, either. They’re both stumbling through with poker faces and calm facades, and one of these days something’s bound to break. Sicheng knows it, but he doesn’t know how to prevent such an inevitable fate.

But at the same time, he cares for— _loves,_ goddammit—Yuta so much that he refuses to go down without a good fight.

“I’m not embarrassed to be with you,” Sicheng insists, shifting his head so he can kiss Yuta’s palm. The motion feels more awkward than what he’d envisioned in his head, but he’d like to believe the sentiment is still there and tangible. “It’s not about being seen with you, but _why_ other people have to see us together. I…I’ve told you before that I’m shit at relationships, and the fact that now our work and personal lives are merging? It’s just something different for me—but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, just that it’s something I have to get used to.”

“So…don’t ever think that you’re the problem, hyung. You’re one of the best things that have ever happened to me,” he finishes with a reassuring smile.

A couple years ago, he would’ve shot himself in the foot before ever saying anything half as sentimental as that. To be completely honest, Sicheng doesn’t know if his words are romantic or cheesy or plain stupid, but he doesn’t care. Because as far as he’s concerned, Yuta makes everything else not matter.

God; when, why, and how did he become like this? Is that just the Nakamoto Yuta effect?

Whatever it is, Sicheng doesn’t quite hate it.

_Feeling that V_

_Xiao Dejun: @Dong Sicheng ge! Help! It’s an emergency!_

_Dong Sicheng: What? The fuck have you gotten yourself into now?_

_Xiao Dejun: Why are you assuming it’s my fault? TT_TT_

_Liu Yangyang: Because it usually is?_

_Qian Kun: Because why else would there be an emergency?_

_Huang Guanheng: Because you’re dumb?_

_Xiao Dejun: All of you can choke_

_Dong Sicheng: Do you need my help or not? Because I’m kind of in the middle of something…_

_Huang Guanheng: LOL Dejun you cockblocker_

_Xiao Dejun: >_<_

_Dong Sicheng: You’ve got two minutes before I leave you to die_

_Xiao Dejun: OKAY OKAY OKAY SO_

_Xiao Dejun: The bath may have gotten itself clogged??? And I didn’t notice and let the water run??? And now my bathroom is lowkey flooded??? And the downstairs neighbors say their ceiling is leaking???_

_Dong Sicheng: Christ_

_Qian Kun: By “the bath may have gotten itself clogged” I think you mean “I’m an idiot who doesn’t clean hair out of the drain and now it’s come back to bite me in the ass”_

_Liu Yangyang: I get the impression it’s not just hair he lets down the drain…_

_Huang Guanheng: Ew, that’s gross._

_Xiao Dejun: SICHENG-GE HELP I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND THE LANDLORD LIKES YOU BETTER THAN ME_

_Dong Sicheng: You’ve been living in that apartment for almost two years now and the landlord still hates you?_

_Xiao Dejun: TT_TT_

_Dong Sicheng: Okay okay, it’s not too late so I can call her for you. I’ll apologize and everything and then I’ll call you to explain what you need to do. In the mean time, try to mop up your bathroom—and if you don’t own a mop then find one._

_Xiao Dejun: MY LORD AND SAVIOR_

_Qian Kun: I am: disgusted_

“—and if you ever masturbate in the shower again I’m gonna fly back to Shanghai just to murder you,” Sicheng finishes darkly, forcefully hanging up before Dejun can chirp back a goodbye.

On the bed, Yuta lies on his back as he languidly scrolls through his phone. Unfortunately, he’s put both his shirt and shorts back on, which probably means that Sicheng was gone too long for them to pick up where they left off (damn that Dejun). 

“I’m sorry about that,” he sighs, collapsing next to Yuta and curling up like a cat in the sheets. “My friend is such an idiot and I didn’t expect my former landlord to yell at me like that for something that’s not my fault.”

Without glancing up from his phone, Yuta lightly ruffles Sicheng’s hair. “It’s okay, Sicheng. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day, anyway,” he teases, no trace of disappointment or annoyance in his voice.

Sicheng lets out a sigh of relief. Not for the first time, he thanks the heavens that Yuta is so endlessly patient with him. It probably isn’t easy to deal with someone as awkward and emotionally constipated as Sicheng, but Yuta’s a fucking angel who’s always there to guide him through the confusing maze of relationships. 

“So who and what was it this time?” Yuta asks as Sicheng grabs his own phone and starts checking social media. “It’s gotta be Dejun right, since you had to talk to the landlord? What did he do now?”

The mental image of Dejun clogging the drain through _certain means_ causes Sicheng to shudder. “Let’s just say that he may be twenty-four but still acts like a teenager going through puberty,” he responds darkly.

Yuta snorts so hard he almost likes a post from his latest Instagram stalking victim. “So when I heard you mention something about masturbating in the shower earlier, that was actually real and not something I hallucinated?”

“Unfortunately,” Sicheng grunts in displeasure, mindlessly scrolling through Weibo.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. He glances at Yuta from the side and carefully inquires, “Hey, why do you never talk about your Japanese friends?”

“Huh?” Yuta blinks, shifting his head so he’s facing Sicheng. With a quizzical look he replies with, “What do you mean? You’ve even met a few of them.”

“Not the ones you met here,” Sicheng corrects. “Like, your friends from Osaka. The ones you went to high school with. Why don’t you ever talk about them?”

Yuta shrugs, or does the closest impression of one he can while lying down. “I did keep in touch with a few of them for a couple years, but college changes people. At some point it was easier to keep up with the people who were physically around us, so my high school friends and I grew distant. Nothing bad happened, but we were bound to grow apart at some point.”

He’s so nonchalant about it that Sicheng’s tempted to ask what the real story is, except he has a gut feeling that that’s really all there is: Yuta and his old friends drifted due to time and distance. There’s no poisonous barb in Yuta’s voice or hidden undercurrent of sadness—he doesn’t even seem to care that much, if at all. Which is good because Sicheng doesn’t want his boyfriend to feel sad or homesick, but now it’s gotten him thinking and he hates thinking too much.

Unlike Yuta, Sicheng only spent a year of college abroad. The year flew by in seconds and the next thing he knew, he was at the Pudong Airport getting bear hugged by Kun and “the kids”. They’d gone out for hotpot to celebrate Sicheng’s return, and then everything was already back to normal the following day as he stepped back into a routine he’d only briefly taken a break from. Yuta, on the other hand, hasn’t been back to Japan for more than a few months ever since he was eighteen. He probably hasn’t had the time to see anyone other than his family. Sicheng understands the whole drifting away from high school friends thing because he himself doesn’t even talk to any of his classmates from Wenzhou anymore, but he at least has Kun, Dejun, Guanheng, and Yangyang to keep him rooted to China while he’s here. Who does Yuta have?

It suddenly occurs to Sicheng that one day, it’s very likely he’ll be in the same boat. Over the course of his two years in Seoul, he’s been able to regularly keep up with his friends in Shanghai. But who’s to say that it’ll always be that way? The youngest three only recently graduated from university and started working, but soon they’ll be more and more busy. And Kun, who started with a single noodle shop, has recently found a lot of success and been branching out into bigger restaurant ventures, so he too has less leisure time. As time goes by, it’ll be harder to keep in touch when Sicheng’s in a different country and they’re all consumed with work; that much is inevitable.

A hand squeezes his shoulder, startling Sicheng back to the present. “I can hear you overthinking again,” Yuta murmurs comfortingly. He tilts his head and gently says, “What’s on your mind, Winko?”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” Sicheng grumbles under his breath.Seriously, where did that nickname even come from? One day Yuta started calling him names like Winwin and Winko out of the blue, but whenever Sicheng asks why his stupid boyfriend will just smile and say it’s a secret.

Yuta grins at his affronted expression, then gestures for him to continue. With a sigh, Sicheng scoots a little closer until their temples are pressed together. “I’m thinking I should probably call Dejun and remind him that no matter how often I threaten his life, I do love him and he’s one of my beloved children I adopted and I’ll always be there to get yelled at by the landlord in his place,” he states with a straight face.

“As expected from my favorite tsundere,” Yuta jokes. He pecks Sicheng’s cheek and adds, “But I think that sounds like a good idea. You gonna do it right now?”

“Might as well since he’s definitely still awake,” Sicheng shrugs and picks up his phone. Right as he’s about to open WeChat—paying for international phone calls, in this economy? Pfft—an email notification pops up on his screen that effectively captures his interest. “Huh, that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Yuta questions curiously.

Sicheng brings the phone between them and angles it so Yuta can see the screen as well. “Chanyeol-hyung just sent me an email with the subject saying ‘Urgent’. Hey, looks like he didn’t turn the Bcc on either because I can see the other people he sent this to.”

Yuta cranes his neck and squints at the small screen. “Jeno, Mark, Jaemin, Baekhyun, and Sunyoung?” He recites, raising a brow in surprise. “That’s an interesting group of people for sure. What does the actual message say?”

“Hmm,” Sicheng frowns in thought as he skims over the content of the email.

_Dear all,_

_I know this is sudden, but I’m requesting your presence for a meeting tomorrow first thing in the morning. Come directly to the meeting room on our floor. We have a lot to discuss._

_Thank you for understanding,_

_Park Chanyeol_

_Regional Manager of the Taeng &Co Seoul Branch_

“Interesting,” he muses.

“Very interesting,” Yuta agrees. Concern flashes through his eyes as he worriedly says, “Call it a hunch, but don’t you think it’s a bit fishy he’s organizing a meeting with all the people who are leaving soon? Why are you included, too?”

_Shit_ , Sicheng realizes with horror. Yuta’s not wrong. The interns’ agreements endin June, Baekhyun’s officially quitting in a matter of weeks, and Sunyoung’s already announced that she’ll be taking a maternity leave. So it makes sense for those five to be grouped together, but what about Sicheng? He’s got no plans of leaving Taeng&Co any time soon, so why on earth is Chanyeol calling him up, too? There's only one logical conclusion...

“I’m getting fired,” he declares blankly.

_Dong Sicheng to Qian Kun_

_Dong Sicheng: So today is possibly my last day of work. Not my choice if it is, though._

_Qian Kun: You’re getting fired?! What did you do???_

_Dong Sicheng: Okay, first of all I’m only possibly getting fired. Secondly, I didn’t do anything._

_Dong Sicheng: Well actually, Yuta and I did get outed yesterday so there’s that. Except why would I get fired for having a relationship with a coworker when there are like, so many other couples in the office?_

_Dong Sicheng: Wait, now that I think of it, all the other couples are getting split up. Not like breaking up, but Johnny and Ten are at different branches, Sunyoung’s going on leave soon, and Jeno and Jaemin are gonna end up somewhere else._

_Dong Sicheng: Holy shit, what if I’m actually getting fired for being with Yuta?_

_Qian Kun: But why wouldn’t he get fired, too?_

_Dong Sicheng: Because he’s been here for five years and I’ve only been here for two???!!! Because he's in sales and I'm the receptionist???!!!_

_Qian Kun: Oh no…_

_Qian Kun: Stay strong, my friend. If all else fails I’ll hire you as a cook._

_Dong Sicheng: With all due respect, I’d rather die than work for you._

_Qian Kun: Ouch. In that case I hope you get fired so you’ll run back here with your tail between your legs and begging me for mercy_

_Dong Sicheng: That’s just messed up, ge._

While his mind tends to overthink faster than the speed of light, Sicheng prides himself on his ability to remain calm and poker faced on the outside. His father, who works in business, once advised him that the only way to get what you want and to not have people walk all over you is to remain perfectly unaffected and emotionless. If you let others know you’re afraid, he explained, they’ll use it against you without a second thought. The path to success lies in not necessarily being braver than the opposition, but in pretending to be.

That being said, he’s a fucking wreck right now. Well, a wreck by Sicheng standards, at least. He and Yuta arrived at the office early and after kissing him for good luck, Yuta headed for the main office. Sicheng was green with envy as he watched him go, wistfully thinking of how nice it must be to start the day with job security.

It’s been ten minutes but Sicheng’s still the only one in the meeting room. Impatiently, he taps his foot and crosses his arms and stares at the clock every few seconds, wondering where in the hell the others are. Is this some kind of elaborate prank? Is he getting fooled? If so, maybe he’ll just quit on his own accord before he can get fired. Ha! That’ll show them!

Before he can get too far in his plotting, however, Jeno and Jaemin thankfully choose that moment to make their entrance. “Hey, hyung!” Jaemin greets brightly, waving his hand that’s not occupied by Jeno’s—seriously, Sicheng’s never seen a couple more clingy than the two interns, but they’re ridiculously adorable together so he gives them a pass.

Jeno peers over his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Do you know why we’ve been called here?” He asks, eyes widened in curiosity.

_Yeah, ‘cause I’m about to lose my job._ “No clue,” Sicheng replies with a casual shrug. _This is where my dreams crash and burn and die in hell._ “Probably nothing too serious though, so don’t worry too much.” _I would like to die, thank you very much._

His words seem to do the trick though, as Jeno’s posture sags in relief. “Thanks, hyung! I'm so glad I can always count on you,” the kid smiles sweetly as his eyes curl into cute crescents.

_Famous last words._ “Right,” Sicheng nods affirmatively.

Jaemin slides into the seat next to Sicheng, dragging Jeno down on his other side. The mischievous grin that lines his lips sets off the red flags in Sicheng’s head, but before he can put a stop to whatever antics the intern is up to, Jaemin opens his mouth and says, “So you know how there was a bet about when you and Yuta-hyung would finally get together?”

Of course this is what they’re talking about. Of fucking course. “Well I didn’t know the details, but I knew there had to be one about us because everyone here has way too much time on their hands,” Sicheng responds dryly.

“Right,” Jaemin nods cheerfully. “Well Seungwan-noona says that at first she thought Doyoung-hyung won, but that was before Ten-hyung outed you guys yesterday and got the truth. Wanna guess who really won?”

_Please don’t be Ten, please don’t be Ten._ “Not particularly.”

Jeno chimes in with an excited, “Sunyoung-noona!”

_Oh thank god._ “Really?” Sicheng lifts a brow in surprise. “How close was she?”

“Pretty damn far off, actually,” Sunyoung’s light voice rings out as she enters with her husband’s intern a few steps behind. She sips at her tea and laments, “Like, almost a year off, actually. We didn’t start betting until after you were already together, but because we didn’t know that we were all super late. But since I put down the earliest date, I won.”

Mark shoots her a strange look. “I still don’t get the whole betting thing,” he frowns. Dear lord, he actually seems deeply upset at being left out and not understanding such an essential part of the team. Poor, innocent, sweet kid.

“Do you know what’s going on, noona?” Jeno wonders.

“Nope,” Sunyoung shakes her head. “I was surprised by the email and asked Jongdae, but he doesn’t know anything, either. Which probably means Chanyeol’s up to some super top secret stuff, since he always tells Jongdae everything.”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘super top secret stuff’” the deep voice of their manager enters the room as Chanyeol walks in with Baekhyun. The former plays with the edges of the manila folder in his hands, clears his throats, and delicately says, “Let’s just say that we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Mark tilts his head. “Like what?”

Chanyeol waits until everyone’s settled down comfortably and the door’s closed before clearing his throat again. “Your futures,” he announces.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck._

“What about our futures?” Sicheng quietly demands, ready to have all his worst fears thrown at him.

“Well,” Chanyeol hesitates, gaze flitting from one person to the next. “Let’s start off with the members of our team who are soon to be gone.”

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck._

“For starters, Johnny-ssi already left for Incheon yesterday. Baekhyun,” he gestures to his secretary, “will be leaving at the end of this month in order to complete any and all necessary preparations for school. And while Sunyoung originally planned to take her leave after her child is born, there’s been a change in plans.”

Sunyoung nods. If Sicheng remembers correctly, she’s at around three months now and just barely showing, but she’s long since ditched her heels for more comfortable flats. “Jongdae and I have been doing a lot of thinking,” she begins, setting her mug down on the table. “Jungwoo’s starting school in April while Yerim’s still got another year, but things are already hectic enough as it is. We don’t really want to hire nannies all the time or continue exploiting our coworkers’ good graces, so we’ve decided that it’s for the best that one of us stays at home for the new few years. Jongdae was gonna do it, but since I’m already gonna take a maternity leave anyway it’s more convenient for both of us if I take care of the kids.”

“What?” Jeno exclaims, jaw dropping as he stares at his unofficial mentor (who’s actually way more productive and nurturing than his actual mentor). “You’re leaving? When?”

“Same time as Baekhyun,” Chanyeol speaks up. He glances at Sunyoung, who nods encouragingly, then continues. “Now this is where things start to get interesting and maybe a bit complicated, so listen carefully, everyone.”

He inhales. “Because we’re supposed to be a small team, our numbers in each position are meant to be limited. Jeno,” the sales intern jumps at the mention of his name, “we initially planned on writing up a good recommendation for you and referring you to another company, but considering we’ll be down a sales team member soon…”

Jeno’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he gasps. “A-are you saying…oh my god, really?”

A small smile graces Chanyeol’s lips. “Yes,” he confirms. “If you’d like to stay, we’re more than willing to offer you a full time contract with us.”

Wonder takes over Jeno’s face as he can only nod, open-mouthed and in complete disbelief. Sicheng can’t help but smile and shoot the kid a thumbs up because out of everyone in the office, Jeno is probably the only one who genuinely loves his job and the chaos of the team. He’s never once seen the intern complain or make a sour face, and a pure, cheerful demeanor is exactly what this sassy and wacky team needs.

“Congrats!” Jaemin cheers, tackling his boyfriend with an affectionate glomp. He coos at Jeno’s red cheeks and immediately launches into his next tangent—Jaemin, as Sicheng’s come to learn, never shuts up when he’s in the right mood. He’s cute though, which makes his rambling tolerable. 

“—gonna miss seeing you at work every day, but don’t get too distracted without me here!” Jaemin finishes, pinching Jeno’s cheeks to emphasize his instructions.

Chanyeol raises a hand. “Actually, you’re the next order of business, Jaemin.”

Jaemin gapes. “Me?” He echoes, pointing at himself in confusion.

“Yes, you,” Chanyeol coughs. “This team has always functioned with only one accountant, but Seungwan has some pretty high praise for you and was rather, er, _verbal_ when expressing how swamped she is with work when she’s alone. So, like with Jeno, we’ve got an open space and you meet all of our criteria with flying colors.”

“So you’re saying I can stay?” Jaemin demands incredulously.

Chanyeol nods, causing Jaemin to screech in excitement and shake Jeno even harder. “Thank you so much, hyung!”

Although Sicheng is quite fond of the two and feels happy for them, he can’t help but knit his brows in confusion. It’s perfectly normal to offer interns full time positions if there’s space, but the vast majority of the team interns leave after their time is up. Out of the current lineup, only Sooyoung was an intern while everyone else was hired as a full-fledged team member from the start. So what, he wonders, is going on? What makes now different than literally every other time?

_Wait_ , he suddenly realizes. _Don’t tell me…_

Right as Sicheng eyes the third and last intern from the side, Chanyeol also directs his attention towards Mark. “As of today, we no longer have an HR rep. Although we didn’t have one before Johnny, CEO Kim firmly believes that we would still benefit with one. So, Mark…”

_Literally what the fuck is fucking happening?_

Mark’s eyebrows that strangely resemble seagulls shot all the way up to his hairline. “You want me to be the new HR rep?” He exclaims, completely dumbfounded. “But I never even shadowed Johnny-hyung or anything—I thought I was interning for management positions?”

Chanyeol’s shoulders stiffen for a fleeting moment, but Sicheng’s hawk eyes don’t miss the tension lining the manager’s posture and mouth. _Aha, so there really is something else going on_ , he deduces with narrowed eyes. 

“Well yes, that much is true,” Chanyeol concedes, strain evident in his voice. “But I took another look at your resume, and your degree and experiences line up quite well with an HR position. It’s highly likely you can rise the ranks and make it to a higher management role in the future, but given your age and relative newness to the workplace, I think it would be better for you to take over Johnny’s position.”

If the twisted pout on Mark’s face is anything to go by, the kid’s also confused as well as to what exactly is going on. But he nods anyway albeit with a small frown and says, “Okay. I’ll need a couple days to think about it but any full time position sounds good.”

“Thank you, Mark,” Chanyeol exhales loudly. “I really appreciate it, even if it’s not what you were expecting.”

And then, in the moment Sicheng’s been waiting for this whole time, Chanyeol finally turns to him. Dare he say it, but Chanyeol’s nervousness appears to increase tenfold as the manager meets Sicheng’s narrowed, suspicious gaze. 

_Alright, bring it on. Fire me and get over with it. Dammit, and to think I thought you were a great manager for tolerating us. Only took a few shady decisions from you to convince me otherwise…_

“I’d like for you to become my new secretary.”

_…the fuck?_ “Excuse me?” Sicheng blinks. “Beg pardon, but I think my ears aren’t working.”

“I told you not to drop the news to him like that!” Baekhyun scolds, lightly whacking the manager on the arm.

“I know I know, I’m an idiot,” Chanyeol hisses back. He clears his throat for what’s got to be the fiftieth time at this point, then smiles sheepishly at Sicheng. “Look, I know that was a bit blunt and completely out of the blue, but please hear me out.”

“Baekhyun’s leaving soon, which means I need to find a replacement. Except I’m a bit, uh, _picky,_ I guess you could say, when it comes to positions like that. But I was thinking that since Baekhyun was technically your first mentor here and your duties are fairly similar, maybe you would be willing to take on his role? Of course you’ll have to do additional stuff like accompanying me to meetings and taking minutes, but I’m sure you can handle it and I trust you. So what do you say, Sicheng?”

What does he say? What the fuck is he supposed to say? Admittedly Sicheng feels a bit flattered that Chanyeol would rather have him as the new secretary than hire a complete stranger, but he mostly feels ticked off. Everyone knows Chanyeol is reluctant to hire new people for god knows what reason—that much is obvious in the way he literally just promoted three interns rather than seeking older and more experienced candidates. Yeah, there’s the whole trust aspect, but Sicheng honestly thinks Chanyeol needs to grow the fuck up and learn to overcome his stranger danger sixth sense. It’s almost as if Chanyeol only wants to promote him because it’s convenient, not because he actually thinks Sicheng is the best person for the job, and that’s what stings the most.

So despite Chanyeol’s pleading eyes and Baekhyun’s encouraging smile, the only words that tumble out of Sicheng’s mouth are, “Hell no.”

“What?” Chanyeol yelps, jaw slacking in disbelief. “But why not?”

On the side, Sunyoung quietly ushers for the soon to be promoted interns to go back to the main office. She shoots Baekhyun a meaningful look before exiting as well, letting the door close behind her to give the remaining three men more privacy.

Guilt tugs at Sicheng’s heartstrings, but he’s determined to put his foot down on this matter—superiority and power roles be damned. “I just find it a bit insulting that you only want me to be secretary because you’re _picky_ about hiring new people,” he explains icily, watching as Chanyeol visibly flinches at the brutal honesty. “Sure it means you trust me and everything and I’m flattered, but it also sounds like I’m only being chosen because I’m already here.”

Chanyeol gnaws on his lower lip. “Sicheng, it’s not like that,” he insists weakly, but the way he can’t quite meet Sicheng’s gaze says more than enough.

“If it were anyone else in my position, you would’ve offered them the job, too,” Sicheng flatly points out. “Or if I were some outsider applying for the secretary position, you wouldn’t have chosen me. Am I wrong?”

“That’s enough,” Baekhyun quietly interjects, tone bordering on a warning.

Sicheng evenly lifts and lowers a shoulder. “Like I said, I’m flattered by the offer, but I like my current position well enough and I’d rather accept an opportunity than I earned through merit, not through familiarity.”

Chanyeol’s head is lowered, but Sicheng still has some semblance of respect for his manager anyway and bows, says, “Thank you again, but I’m going to have to decline. I’m sure you can find someone more qualified and deserving,” and leaves the room.

“In conclusion; I wasn’t about to be fired this morning, but I may be getting fired by this evening,” Sicheng recounts, slumping against Yuta’s shoulder with a groan.

On his other side, Taeil patronizingly pats him on the arm. “Don’t worry, Sichengie. It’s not every day someone talks back to Chanyeol-hyung, so he probably needed that.”

“I’m so getting fired,” Sicheng repeats miserably.

Yuta rests his head on top of Sicheng’s in what’s meant to be a comforting motion, except Sicheng wrinkles his nose because Yuta’s hair tickles. “You’ll be okay, Winko,” he promises. “Chanyeol-hyung would be stupid to fire you when you’re the only one with more than two braincells here.”

Not exactly the most reassuring statement, but because it comes from Yuta it automatically makes Sicheng feel a bit better.

Ten, who’s sitting directly across from the couple and therefore has the best view of their, well, couple-y antics, narrows his eyes. “I’m confused,” he proclaims loudly.

“Name a time and place you aren't confused,” Sooyoung smoothly cuts in between spoonfuls of yogurt.

“I really, really, _really_ like Seungwan-noona better than you.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t take anything midgets say into consideration.”

“For the last time, you’re barely taller than me!”

Today is one of the rare days in which the entire “roughly same-aged friends” squad has the same lunch break. Well, most of them, at least. Seungwan and Doyoung are both technically on break, but they chose to actually do their jobs for once and finish work. Actually, now that Sicheng thinks about it, what work does Doyoung really have to do? Surely there isn’t much for a tech specialist to handle when there are barely any technical issues in the office? He considers asking Doyoung later, then immediately dismisses that notion because that would require talking to Doyoung. Sicheng may not have beef with the guy like the troublemakers do, but he still chooses to be cautious around him anyway.

Since Ten is Ten, he constantly needs someone to trade lighthearted blows with. Peak entertainment is when he and Seungwan go at it, but Sooyoung’s not so bad herself. Sicheng watches in amusement as Sooyoung continues to jab at Ten’s height while Ten counters with threats about exposing her contraband wine coolers (a bit weak, considering everyone in the office already knows and has sought her out for said contraband wine coolers, anyway).

“What are you confused about?” Yuta inquires, absentmindedly letting his hand drop to Sicheng’s thigh. 

Ten stops squabbling with his fellow ’96-er long enough to make wild and completely uninterpretable hand gestures. “This!” He exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Yuta-who’s-got-his-head-on-Sicheng’s-who’s-got-his-head-on-Yuta’s-shoulder. “Literally what the fuck is this? Yesterday Sicheng beat my ass and today you’re like, the chillest couple ever? Where’s the consistency?”

“What’s so bad about being chill?” Sicheng frowns. “Not everyone needs some tumultuous, dramatic as hell backstory like you and Johnny-hyung.”

“Excuse me, but our love story is epic,” Ten sniffs, crossing his arms like a child. “How did you two even get together, anyway? How the hell did Yuta-hyung ever convince you to go out with him?”

_He didn’t have to because I was the whipped one._ “He’s a very patient man.”

Yuta giggles. Sicheng very maturely retaliates by pinching his side (he _was_ about to stomp on his foot, then decided that he liked his boyfriend too much to do any harm to him).

Ten, however, isn’t quite done yet. “When did this become official? Like not when you started dating because we all know that, but when you became boyfriends?” He demands.

_Oh, when I overheard you mentioning his porn video and I got a little too curious. Just your average “be my boyfriend” story._ “Like, seven months ago?” Sicheng shrugs as casually as possible.

Again, Yuta giggles. Sicheng jabs him in the waist this time. Taeil and Sooyoung, who also know the full story, snicker—only to wear matching innocent grins when Sicheng glares at them.

Oblivious as ever, Ten shakes his head and digs back in to his lunch. “Well congrats, I guess, even though I almost got killed yesterday. Treat each other right. Hit me up if you ever wanna go on a double date.”

“Hell fucking no,” Yuta and Sicheng respond in unison.

“Whaaaaat? But I have no one else to pester into double dates since Taeyong’s in Jeonju,” Ten pouts.

“I’ve had quite enough of your antics with Johnny to last a lifetime,” Yuta shudders. “You’d probably eyefuck the whole time anyway, which I do not need to see any more of.”

Ten considers that for a moment, then shrugs. “That’s pretty fair.”

“I’d offer for you to go on double dates with me and Sungjae, but I think I’ll spare you from that experience,” Sooyoung sighs, grimacing at the thought of her wacky yet lovable fiancé.

“I’d offer too, except I’m forever alone,” Taeil supplies helpfully.

Yuta snorts. “Don’t worry, guys. We’ve already gone on plenty of double dates with our other friends.”

“You have friends other than us?” Ten exclaims, sounding absolutely offended at the mere idea.

Correction: _Yuta_ has friends other than the team. Sicheng isn’t all that outgoing and is perfectly content with the size of his small yet close knit social circle (read: the only friends he actually hangs out with are Sooyoung and Taeil). Yuta, on the other hand, has a lot of friends from college that he still keeps in touch with, and Sicheng’s even met most of them. Just last week they went on a double date with Mina and Momo, two girls who also hail from Osaka and met Yuta at their college’s Japanese Student Association. Yuta’s met Kun and the others a few times over FaceTime, but it’s a bit hard to communicate with the language barrier. Still, Sicheng’s relieved to hear that his friends give Yuta their stamp of approval.

“Don’t worry Ten, you’re still the only Thai midget in my heart,” Yuta sticks his tongue out, then quickly dodges the spoon Ten hurtles his way.

A light knock on the open door catches everyone’s attention. Instant dread pools in Sicheng’s stomach the second he sees Baekhyun standing at the entrance. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“Sorry, but can I steal Sicheng for a second?” Baekhyun requests with an apologetic smile.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck._ “No problem,” Sicheng nods, standing up and clearing away the remains of his lunch. “Be out in a sec.”

Yuta raises a brow. _You okay?_

_I’m about to lose my job but yup, just peachy._

“Hi,” Baekhyun greets once they’re made their way to the hallway outside the office, out of sight and earshot from the others.

The hairs on Sicheng’s arm rise in fear. “Look, I’m really sorry about talking back to Chanyeol-hyung and everything earlier, but I’m standing by what I said,” he explains defensively.

Despite being a few inches shorter and considerably more narrowly built, Baekhyun certainly doesn’t seem small right now. “I’m not here to scold you for that,” Baekhyun gently corrects. “If anything, I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. But I’m also asking you to at least give it some more thought.”

Sicheng wonders if Baekhyun’s only siding with Chanyeol on this because of his feelings for him, then immediately shoos the thought away. Baekhyun is one of the most professional, levelheaded people in the entire building—it’s not fair for Sicheng to accuse him of personal bias, especially since he technically hasn’t even heard Chanyeol’s side of the story.

Baekhyun’s lips quirk upwards in what isn’t quite a smile nor a grimace but somewhere in between. “Chanyeol always tries his best but he’s a bit… _misguided_ at times. Even if his reasons are a bit strange or unconventional—or selfish, even—he only has good intentions. Of course, intent doesn’t equal impact, but I think he’s learned that lesson the hard way.”

“My point is, I completely understand why you don’t want to take the job. It’s one hundred percent your decision and I wouldn’t want to force you into something you don’t like. If you reject the offer, I can find someone else to fill in for me. But if you think you might be interested, Chanyeol would be more than happy to promote you.”

“Just think about it, okay? Let one of us know your final decision on Monday and we’ll respect your wishes.”

Baekhyun pats him on the shoulder before quietly excusing himself and striding back into the office, leaving Sicheng with too many thoughts and too few conclusions.

“I mean, why not?” Taeil shrugs, tongue poking out as he concentrates on spreading strawberry jam over his toast. “It’ll be more work, sure, but the pay’s gotta be better and Chanyeol-hyung’s not that hard to handle. I say go for it.”

Sooyoung tsks. “Oppa, it’s not about any of that. You can’t deny the principles of the offer are kinda shady.”

“Very shady,” Sicheng agrees, dejectedly cutting off a small piece of his (very overpriced, in his humble opinion) omelette. “I’m happy for the kids and they definitely deserve it, but giving all three interns full time jobs? That’s never happened here before.”

“Admittedly that _is_ pretty weird,” Taeil hums in thought. “Hyung’s a strange one for sure. I’ve never been able to get a good reading on him, so I really don’t know what’s going on in his head.”

“Did you talk to Yuta?” Sooyoung tilts her head in curiosity. “He’s been here longer than any of us, maybe he knows something?”

Sicheng grimaces. “We talked about it last night, but he doesn’t know anything about Chanyeol-hyung either. He just said that hyung’s always been reluctant to let new people into his life, but everyone already knew that anyway.”

Sometimes he forgets just how long Yuta has been with the team compared to the other roughly same aged friends. Yuta only turned twenty-eight a few months ago but he’s already been working with Chanyeol and Jongdae for five and a half years. Seungwan’s been here the second longest, but even she’s only been around for three. 

Yesterday after work, Sicheng spilled all his conflicting thoughts about the offer to Yuta over dinner. Between slurps of ramyun, Yuta had been nothing but supportive by helping him measure the pros and cons of the promotion and promising to stand by him no matter what. 

“Dunno,” he’d sighed when Sicheng brought up Chanyeol. “He’s just always been like that, y’know. I think even though he’s pretty extroverted it’s also not that easy to get close to him? Like it's easy for him to get close to others but he still has a hard time letting people in, as cliché as that sounds.”

_I could say the same for you_. “I just don’t feel comfortable accepting the position when I probably haven’t done anything to actually deserve it,” Sicheng confessed. 

The look Yuta sent his way was indecipherable at best. “Well, do you think so?”

“Think what?”

“That you deserve it? That you’re qualified and good enough?”

Now that certainly hadn’t been a question Sicheng had been expecting, and he’d been thoroughly stumped. Was he qualified? Probably—he possessed all the organizational skills a secretary needed and even though he’s not the biggest people person, he at least knew how to deal with them. But it’s not just about whether he has the ability to be secretary; was it something he even _wanted_?

“If you were me, what would you do?” He’d proposed, hoping Yuta’s answer would help guide him.

Instead, Yuta merely wiped his soup-stained lips and smirked. “But I’m not you, so how could I possibly answer in your place?”

_Damn you and your logic that actually makes sense but I’m still annoyed by it anyway._ “I guess you’re right,” Sicheng groaned, slumping over until his forehead rested on the table. “I never knew being responsible for myself could be this hard.”

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor reached his ears, followed by a warm body sliding into the seat next to him and an arm wrapping around his frame. “Hey now, you’re doing just fine,” Yuta soothed with all the patience in the world. “You know I’ve always got your back, so no matter what you choose I’ll still support you. But you’ve got to be honest with yourself, alright?”

_Easier said than done._ “How do you always know the right thing to say?” Sicheng complained as he reflexively leaned into Yuta’s touch. 

“I’ve been alive two more years than you, Winko. That makes me like, ten times wiser.”

Sicheng snorted. “You suck.”

“Mmhmm.”

Still, Sicheng hadn’t been able to come to a decision that day. He’d even FaceTimed Kun with hopes of getting an outside opinion, but Kun didn’t have anything new to say. So he’d called Taeil and Sooyoung up for a last minute Saturday brunch session, hoping they could offer some wisdom and sage advice. Unfortunately, it looks like he’s still stuck at absolutely fucking nowhere.

Deep in thought, Sooyoung taps her spoon against the table and purses her lips together. “Okay, so let’s think about it this way,” she slowly speaks up. “Other than the somewhat shady principles, is there anything else stopping you from accepting?”

Sicheng pauses with his fork halfway up to his mouth. “Not reaaaaaaally,” he reluctantly admits. “It’s definitely a very tempting offer and I wouldn’t mind doing it. But I don’t know, I can’t shake the feeling that Chanyeol-hyung only wants me to take the job because it’s convenient for him.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t deserve it,” Taeil points out with a frown. “Sicheng, just because our manager’s a bit weird doesn’t mean he lacks a conscience. I think you’re underestimating him a bit, in fact, because I highly doubt he would’ve ever considered promoting you if he didn’t think you were good enough.”

“Taeil-oppa has a point,” Sooyoung hums. “As messy as this whole situation seems, I think Chanyeol-oppa does believe in you. The interns all got promoted because, let’s face it, they’re some of the strongest interns we’ve ever had. And besides, it’s not like the old receptionist got the same offer before Baekhyun-oppa came. Chanyeol’s smart enough to know who’s worthy and he clearly sees something in you.”

“But,” Sicheng starts, only for any protests on the tip of his tongue to fade away. He hadn’t thought about it that way before, which makes him feel guilty for being so quick to judge Chanyeol—Chanyeol, his kind, patient manager who puts up with tons of shit from his workers but still laughs and plays along with them like a friend rather than a boss. 

Baekhyun’s right; as misguided and inarticulate Chanyeol can be, he’s still got a heart of gold. If nothing else, it’s worth hearing him out.

“I think I’ll sleep on it for now,” he decides. “But thanks for listening to me, guys. It’s probably not very much fun watching me whine all the time, huh?”

“You just figured that out now?” Taeil sniffs.

“Yeah, you totally owe us,” Sooyoung grins mischievously. “In fact, I’d say it’s pretty fair that you pay for brunch, hmm?”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he mocks.

Deep down, though, he’s eternally grateful that Taeil and Sooyoung were kind enough to take him under their wing and let him into their inner circle. Where would he be without them, really?

(Probably the fourth, slightly saner member of the troublemakers, but that’s a thought he doesn’t want to dwell too much on)

_Feeling that V_

_Liu Yangyang: Uhhh hey everyone so there’s a problem_

_Xiao Dejun: Is it worse than me flooding the bathroom?_

_Liu Yangyang: Well, no, not really_

_Xiao Dejun: Lol bye then this doesn’t concern me_

_Liu Yangyang: There’s a reason you’re my least favorite_

_Qian Kun: What’s wrong?_

_Liu Yangyang: So I may or may not have flooded my kitchen_

_Huang Guanheng: WHAT_

_Xiao Dejun: WHAT_

_Qian Kun: WHAT_

_Dong Sicheng: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK_

_Dong Sicheng: HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK_

_Liu Yangyang: It turns out that my garbage disposal broke a few weeks ago._

_Qian Kun: But that shouldn’t matter because it’s not like you dump solid food down your drain, RIGHT?_

_Liu Yangyang: :’)_

_Dong Sicheng: Fucking hell_

_Huang Guanheng: Wait, but you just said that whatever you did isn’t worse than Dejun flooding the bathroom. How is flooding your kitchen any better?_

_Liu Yangyang: Well technically I didn’t actually say it was better, just that it’s not worse. I mean, flooding the kitchen is just as bad as flooding the bathroom, right? :)_

_Dong Sicheng: @Huang Guanheng if you so much as THINK about flooding your bedroom I’m taking the first flight to Shanghai just so I can kick your ass back to Macau_

_Huang Guanheng: Yes, sir._

_Liu Yangyang: Sooooo, Sicheng-ge…_

_Dong Sicheng: what_

_Liu Yangyang: Mind calling my landlord for me? :D_

_Dong Sicheng: hell no, make Kun-ge do it since he’s actually there_

_Qian Kun: Sorry, but I’m not the landlord expert_

_Dong Sicheng: You literally deal with five landlords because of all your restaurant locations_

_Qian Kun: Oof my mom just called, I gotta scram_

_Dong Sicheng: It’s almost as if I never left_

_Liu Yangyang: :D_

_Dong Sicheng: You should’ve stayed in Germany_

_Liu Yangyang: Ouch, but fair._

_Liu Yangyang: Sooo, about that landlord??? ;D_

_Dong Sicheng: Christ_

_Xiao Dejun: You called? ;)_

_Dong Sicheng: You’re literally asking for an ass kicking back to Guangdong right now, kid_

_Xiao Dejun: I’ll take that as my cue to disappear_

“You really love your friends, don’t you?” Yuta remarks, peering at Sicheng in amusement as the latter grumpily stalks into the bedroom after a rather long phone call.

“They can choke for all I care,” Sicheng spits out venomously. “Kun and I practically raised them in college, and this is how they repay me? The fucking nerve!”

Yuta just laughs.

Sunday breezes by as Sicheng and Yuta occupy themselves with filing taxes together at Yuta’s dining table, then subsequently celebrate finishing their taxes by lazily making out on the couch while _Fruits Basket_ is left forgotten in the background.

(It’s a bit frightening sometimes to think just how domestic they’ve become, but that’s a thought Sicheng elects to shove into the darkest corner of his mind inside a filing cabinet lined with yellow hazard tape and a big ass warning sign)

Monday is also pretty uneventful—or, more accurately, it’s pretty uneventful by the team’s standards. Shockingly, there’s no screaming chase scene today, nor any particularly loud and disruptive outbursts from Ten. The last part is most likely due to the fact that Ten’s too busy texting—ahem, _sexting_ —Johnny, but whatever the reason at least it keeps him quiet. Jeno and Jaemin are off canoodling in the make out closet, but what’s new? And Doyoung’s definitely typing up more viruses because there’s no other logical explanation for why his fingers are flying so rapidly across his keyboard—he could actually be doing his job, but what work does he actually have to do around these parts?

Everything runs smoothly, which is normally a good thing but today, that’s exactly the problem. Because all good things must come to an end eventually, and the end comes in the form of the clock striking five and the team packing upfor the day. But Sicheng can’t go home quite yet, because there’s one very daunting task left for him to do.

Sensing his discomfort, Yuta clasps Sicheng’s hand in his and leans forward to peck him on the lips. “You’ll be fine,” Yuta promises with an encouraging grin. “I’ll wait in the lobby for you, okay?”

“Mmm,” Sicheng mumbles.

With a great amount of regret, he lets go of his boyfriend and inches his way over to Chanyeol’s private office. _You got this, Sicheng. Totally. One hundred percent. It’s just a conversation, what could possibly go wrong?_

_You could get fired?_

_Fuck off, Pessimistic Sicheng!_

“Hi,” he quietly announces, rapping on the already opened door. Chanyeol whips his head towards him while Baekhyun, who’s seated on top of the desk, just smiles knowingly. “We should probably talk.”

“Right,” Chanyeol nods, sounding a bit scattered as he jerkily gestures for Sicheng to take a seat on the chair opposite his desk. “Right. I’ll let you start.”

_Where to even begin?_ “I think it’s best that I start off with an apology, because I really owe you one,” Sicheng begins, voice a lot calmer than the millions of thoughts running rampant in his head. “I was a bit too blunt and got carried away last week. I’m sorry for talking back to you like that, but I hope you understand why I was frustrated.”

Chanyeol wearily runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry too, Sicheng,” he dips his head. “I’ve come to realize how my intentions could be easily misinterpreted and it really wasn’t fair on you. I also owe you an apology, and I hope you can accept it.”

Baekhyun, who’s simply observed the exchange with unreadable eyes, slides off the desk. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” he murmurs, slipping out of the room before Sicheng can blink.

The apologies are out of the way, but unfortunately that was the easiest part. Sicheng straightens his posture until he stands at full height and delicately says, “So I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it’s safe to say I’m not mad anymore. Hell, it feels stupid to have been mad in the first place because it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth, but Sicheng doesn’t give him a chance to protest. “See, I remembered how when you hired Baekhyun, you didn’t hire him because he was the most qualified; it was because you were doing a favor for him and Jongdae-hyung. If I’m gonna be honest, that’s also a bit questionable but it’s helped me realize that you do have good intentions. And…I guess the _why_ isn’t as important as this.”

“Do you _want_ me to be secretary?”

Judging by the way Chanyeol’s head snaps up and he stares at Sicheng with disbelief painted all over his face, he certainly hadn’t expected that. Sicheng can’t blame him—it’s a simple question, but one that’s quite awkward to have to answer. Still, he knows that whatever the shady or weird reasonings for Chanyeol choosing him, it ultimately comes down to whether he’s actually wanted and trusted. Out of all the qualified secretaries who could come clamoring for the opportunity to work at such a strong company, there has to be a solid explanation for why Chanyeol’s ignoring them and choosing Sicheng—and something tells him it’s not entirely because he's the convenient option.

At last, Chanyeol manages a nod. “I really do,” he says quietly. Poking his tongue out to wet his lips, Chanyeol adds, “We haven’t interacted much face to face, but you’re one of the hardest working, most reliable members of this team. It would be an honor to work more closely with you.”

Sicheng closes his eyes and inhales. “Alright,” he replies evenly. “Then I accept the offer.”

“That’s okay, I understa—wait, _what?_ ” Chanyeol exclaims, eyes as big as his ears as he gawks at his receptionist (soon to be secretary, Sicheng reminds himself). “Y-you’ll actually do it?”

“I mean, why not?” Sicheng shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m pretty sure I can handle the additional responsibilities, and I’m gonna get a raise, _right?_ ” 

That seems to do the trick as Chanyeol breaks out of shock and laughs. “Naturally. You’ll be duly compensated for all the shit I’ve already put you through and the future shit you’re gonna have to deal with,” he promises with a wink.

Sicheng’s got a sassy retort prepared, but the sound of loud applause distracts him. Baekhyun strolls in with a cheeky grin as he claps his hands together, says, “Congratulations for not messing up, Yeol. And thank you for accepting, Sichengie—I really didn’t feel like reviewing candidates, so you’ve just saved me a ton of work.”

“All men do is use me,” Sicheng grumbles under his breath.

Baekhyun thumps him on the back in way too energetic of a manner. “As an apology, I’ll help you sort through the new receptionist applicants!” He cheerfully vows.

Sicheng groans. “Fuck, I didn’t realize I’d have to do that. Is it too late to go back on my word?”

“Yup!” Chanyeol vigorously nods like a puppy. A giant, dopey-eyed, lovable puppy Sicheng wants to send back to the pound. 

“Don’t worry, Sicheng! I’ll post the job opening on the company site right now so we can get the prospects filing in super quickly,” Baekhyun states, staring up at the ceiling as he makes a mental list of everything he needs to do. “Hmm, I’ll be gone in exactly a month, so I’ll send you the list of the best applicants in two weeks. I can even help with interviews too, since Chanyeol’s schedule is packed these next few weeks. In fact, how about—”

“Uhhhh, hi? Excuse me, but can I interrupt for a second?”

Sicheng, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol all turn towards the open door, where an uncharacteristically nervous and apprehensive Mark Lee stands twiddling his thumbs. The Mark Sicheng knows isn’t quite as loud and chaotic as the rest of the team, but he’s certainly getting there with his random shoutings of English phrases (mostly “Okaaaaaay!”), blasting of Coldplay in the break room (“‘Viva la Vida’ is the most epic song to ever exist!”), and generally endearing younger brother antics as he used to follow and annoy Johnny like it was his job (“You’re totally trying to steal my intern,” Jongdae would always complain). 

“Oh, Mark?” Chanyeol raises a brow in surprise. “What are you still doing here? Come on in and tell us what’s up.”

Hesitantly, Mark shuffles into the private office. Sicheng gets up from his chair and ushers Mark onto it, sharp eyes catching the way the soon to be promoted intern’s Adam apple bobs and gaze darts all over the room. Kind of like a nervous teenager about to introduce his first boyfriend/girlfriend to his parents, what with how much he’s squirming.

Baekhyun frowns. “Mark? What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks in concern.

“I, um,” Mark pauses, swallows again, then all of a sudden clasps his hands together and bows his head. “I have a favor I need to ask!” He yells at the top of his lungs.

Sicheng flinches at the sudden jump in volume. “Easy, kid,” he grunts.

Chanyeol tilts his head. “A favor? How big are we talking here?”

Mark grimaces. “Big,” he replies ominously. “A very, very, very, _very_ big favor.”

Sicheng, who’s just remembered that he has a boyfriend waiting for him in the lobby, whistles and says, “Well, this has been fun while it lasted but I should get going. I’ll leave you guys to solve this issue.”

“Wait!” Mark yelps, lurching forward to grasp Sicheng’s hands in his ( _what the fuck?)._ “This actually has to do with you, so please hear me out!”

_Oh, no. No no no no no. I’ve never once heard those words without a shitstorm hitting right after. Like hell am I about to get involved. Figure your problems out yourself, boy._

“Fine,” he unwillingly agrees, disentangling his hands from Mark’s grip (personal bubble, sheesh!). “Just cut to the chase already, I wanna go home.”

Mark nods with utmost seriousness. “I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise!” He takes in a breath so deep it sounds like he’s wheezing, then says, “Canyoupleasegivemyboyfriendajob?”

_…huh?_

Sicheng looks at Chanyeol, who looks at Baekhyun, who looks back to Sicheng, who’s honestly just so fucking confused right now because a) _what the fuck_ , b) _why_ the fuck, and c) _is this kid insane_?

Chanyeol presses his fingers to his temples. “Context, please,” he orders, furiously rubbing away an imminent headache.

Mark straightens his already perfectly straight posture. “You remember my boyfriend, right? I brought him to the Christmas party—has like four names, super tall, bushy brows, big-ass eyes, kinda derpy looking except also super hot?”

Manager and secretary let out _ahh_ s of recognition, whereas receptionist resists the urge to bash his head against the wall. _Of course_ he remembers Mark’s boyfriend; how could he possibly bleach _that_ memory out of his brain?

Sicheng had been minding his business nursing a drunk in the corner (whilst also eyeing up Yuta’s ass, but that detail’s not terribly important) in true antisocial tsundere style when suddenly, an enormous shadow belonging to a ginormous behemoth of a creature was cast over him. Fearing the worst, he’d clutched his soju bottle close and was prepared to smash the neck off and use the jagged edges as a weapon. But then, the behemoth spoke.

“Hello! You must be the Chinese one!” The behemoth—er, _young man_ —beamed, pearly whites shining brighter than Sicheng’s future.

_Mandarin?_ “Uhh, yes, that’s me,” Sicheng nodded awkwardly. The only people he spoke in his mother tongue with were his friends and his parents over the phone, so this felt unfamiliar and a bit strange. 

The guy actually wasn’t too much of a behemoth once Sicheng took a closer look. The combination of his features should’ve been goofy-looking, but he’s actually quite attractive in a boyish, perpetually confused way. 

The only thing was, who the hell was this dude?

“Xuxi!” A panicked voice yelped as Mark Lee dashed over and grabbed the stranger by the elbow. Sicheng’s English wasn’t too hot, but he had a feeling Mark was chastising the guy for being so forward. In Korean, Mark added, “I’m really sorry about him, Sicheng-hyung. This is my boyfriend—he’s from Hong Kong and his Korean isn’t too good yet, so he’s super excited to meet someone from China.”

The boyfriend waved cheerfully. “Hi, I’m Yukhei! Or it might be easier for you to call me Xuxi, huh? Oh wait, I’ve got a Korean name too—Mark, what was it again?”

“Wookhee,” Mark mumbled, ears tinged red in secondhand embarrassment.

“Right! But I also go by Lucas too because it’s cute to have couple English names, doncha think?” Yukhei/Xuxi/Wookhee/Lucas explained, then launched into a long ramble about how cute and short Mark was and how he can speak four languages (“Except Korean doesn’t really count because it’s super hard,” he’d sighed) and about a billion other things Sicheng really couldn’t give less of a shit about.

Head pounding harder than the beating Yuta’s headboard took the night before, Sicheng eventually managed to silence Mark’s chatty boyfriend by slapping his hand over the guy’s mouth. “Is he always like this?” He demanded in Korean.

“Yup,” Mark confirmed, weakly returning his unbothered boyfriend’s excited wave. “But it’s one of his charms so I let him be.”

“Have you ever considered _not_ letting him be?”

“But wouldn’t that make our relationship toxic if I suppressed his true self too much?”

“Well, I _guess_.”

“Besides, I like when he talks!”

“Mark.”

“Yeah?”

“Keep him at least ten feet away from me at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

So yes, of fucking course Sicheng remembers Yukhei/Xuxi/Wookhee/Lucas. Their interaction may have been brief, but it certainly left a lasting impression on him. Never had he met anyone as boldly extroverted, shameless, and loud as the guy with four names—in fact, Mark’s boyfriend made Ten and Seungwan look tame, and that most certainly did not make Sicheng eager to see him again.

While Sicheng is busy reliving the traumatic memory, however, he distantly registers Mark babbling away some story about his boyfriend being currently out of work and desperately searching for a job that could also help improve his Korean. Unfortunately he snaps out of his haze too late, because if he’d been paying a little more attention he would’ve put the pieces together and stopped this nonsense before it got too far.

“—and after we had that meeting last week I realized there would be an open position somewhere that would force him to talk on the phone and communicate a lot, which would be really really good for him. I swear I didn’t mean to eavesdropbut I’ve been waiting outside your office for Sicheng-hyung to leave for like, ten minutes. Then Baekhyun-hyung started talking about finding a new receptionist and I thought I’d shoot a shot at that,” Mark stops to catch his breath, then immediately slams his clasped hands down on Chanyeol’s desk (causing his three elders to jump a foot in the air) and supplicating, “Please give him a chance! Lucas is a bit hopeless sometimes but he always gives it a hundred percent and is a really good worker once he finally focuses.”

“‘Once he finally focuses’?” Baekhyun parrots, knitting his brow apprehensively.

Chanyeol appears just about how Sicheng feels, which is entirely too overwhelmed and ready to go home and never come back. Still, he’s a good manager so he coughs and goes along with it for now. “What prior work experience does Lucas-ssi have? Is his Korean decent enough that he can answer basic questions on the phone and arrange schedules?” Chanyeol inquires.

Mark wilts. “Uhh…he only moved here to be close to me a few months ago so he hasn’t had a job since arriving. And the most he ever did was wait tables for a year after college, but that was in Hong Kong. As for his Korean, well, it’s not that great…”

“I…I don’t know Mark,” Chanyeol sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.

Baekhyun, however, hums and rests a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Personally, I think we might be able to figure something out,” he muses. “I mean, I never had any office-related experience either before I joined. As for the language barrier, that might be a little trickier but he’ll have Mark to speak English with and Sicheng can communicate with him in Chinese. If his main goal is to become more fluent in Korean then he’d have to speak as much of the language as possible, of course, but it would probably help to have translators in the room.”

Some indiscernible emotion flickers through Chanyeol’s eyes. “You might just be onto something, Baek,” he marvels. “Sure, we’d have to pull a few strings again, but getting Lucas into the team wouldn’t be that hard. CEO Kim would be on my ass, but what’s new? If we can get him here within the next few weeks he could shadow Sicheng. I’d suggest he enroll in a couple online Korean classes in the meantime to prepare a little more, but we’ve always got Sicheng to help with the transition.”

Finally snapping out of his trance, Sicheng stubbornly crosses his arms and shakes his head. “No. Nuh-uh. Hell no. I am _not_ getting dragged into this,” he declares, lifting his chin like a petulant child.

“Please, hyung!” Mark begs, staring up at him imploringly. “I know your first impression of him wasn’t very good, but please give him a second chance! He really needs it!”

“There’s nothing you could do or say to convince me to help him,” Sicheng sniffs.

Mark pouts and gives him the puppy dog eyes. 

_Shit._

“The last thing I need is to adopt another hopeless Chinese kid,” he groans, knowing this is a battle he’s already lost. _As if those stupid children flooding their apartments aren’t bad enough…_

Baekhyun smiles encouragingly. “Come on, Sicheng, I think we should at least give Lucas-ssi a shot,” he insists. “It doesn’t sound that bad—you’ve just got to mentor him for a few weeks and soon he won’t even need your help anymore! Kids learn fast these days, you know!”

_Why can’t Chanyeol-hyung ever hire people like a normal goddamn manager?_ “Okay,” Sicheng yields, albeit unenthusiastically. “I mean, what’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

Famous. Fucking. Last. Words.

_Feeling that V_

_Huang Guanheng: Eyyyyy so I got good news and bad news_

_Qian Kun: Oh boy, I can’t wait to hear what bullshit happened now_

_Xiao Dejun: Don’t worry Guanheng, it can’t be that bad compared to the shit Yangyang and I pulled off recently_

_Liu Yangyang: hahahaha yeah if you can top us I’d be shocked_

_Dong Sicheng: Why do I have a bad feeling about this_

_Qian Kun: Same, I can already sense the impending doom_

_Huang Guanheng: Well the good news is that I didn’t flood my bedroom—just like Sicheng-ge told me not to do!_

_Dong Sicheng: Okayyyy? Why bring that up now_

_Dong Sicheng: Wait_

_Dong Sicheng: You can’t possibly be serious…_

_Liu Yangyang: Guanheng-ge, maybe you should stop talking like, now_

_Qian Kun: No, please keep talking because I for one would love to know what the bad news is_

_Huang Guanheng: I flooded my living room_

_Xiao Dejun: He…he really topped us…_

_Liu Yangyang: I was today days old when I learned it’s actually possible to flood a living room_

_Xiao Dejun: I'm fucking speechless_

_Qian Kun: Lol bye_

_Huang Guanheng: @Dong Sicheng ge..?_

_Dong Sicheng: I have nothing to say_

_Huang Guanheng: [Attachment]_

_Huang Guanheng: This is my landlord’s contact information. Just in case, y’know :)_

_Dong Sicheng: I—_

_Dong Sicheng: Fuck this, I don’t even have time to boot you back to Macau._

_Huang Guanheng: Buuuuut you got time to make a quick phone call, riiiiiiiight? ;D_

_Huang Guanheng: Ge? GE????_

_Huang Guanheng: @Dong Sicheng ge, where did you go??????_

_Xiao Dejun: I think we finally killed him_

What the actual _fuck_ , Sicheng wonders as he disconsolately types in a phone number while Lucas screams for assistance in a weird mix of Mandarin, Korean, and English in the background, has his life turned into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I was gonna make Sicheng and Yuta's relationship dramatic and angsty, but then I remembered that by this point they've already been together two years so they've got to have some of their shit together. Hence, super domestic Yuwin instead of angsty Yuwin. Don't worry though, some kinda dramatic (but not that dramatic) stuff will happen later :)
> 
> 2) Obviously the hiring process doesn't really work the way Chanyeol does it, but that's because he's just special.
> 
> 3) Can't promise how regularly I can update this because I've finished plotting a two chapter story for a different pairing (guess who!) and want to start writing that soon, but I'll try not to take too long.
> 
> Let me know what you think so far!


	3. Lucas and Jisung (don't) go to hell (but they create plenty of chaos)

Despite his cool demeanor and remarkable levelheadedness, being thrust out of Wenzhou and into Shanghai at the age of eighteen wasn’t easy. Sicheng remembers moving into his new dorm and bidding goodbye to his parents, and then reality hit him like a high speed train. Wenzhou wasn’t a small city by any means, but Shanghai was a different beast entirely. As he stood in his tiny single room—his parents had insisted on living by himself his first year and waiting until he made friends to choose an adequate roommate from for his second year—while cars blared on the streets below and the harsh sunlight reflected on the soaring buildings, Sicheng had never felt more alone.

That rather depressing thought lasted for a grand total of fifteen seconds, because the next thing he knew his door was shoved open with a bang so loud he jumped about two feet in the air and his heartbeat skyrocketed.

“Yo,” a guy of average height and build casually saluted with one hand while holding a clipboard in the other. “Dong Sicheng, right?”

_Please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer._ “That’s me,” he replied weakly.

The intruder hummed as he scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Awesome. I’m Qian Kun, second year RA and in charge of V House.”

_Since when are RAs allowed to just barge in like that?_ “Oh. Nice to meet you, Kun-ge,” Sicheng dipped his head in respect. 

Kun returned his greeting with a curt nod, then swept his gaze across the room. As he took in the neatly made bed, sparse band posters, and succulents on the desk, Kun remarked, “Feeling lonely already?”

“How could you tell?” Sicheng mumbled, embarrassed at having gotten caught so quickly.

“Personal experience,” Kun grinned. He wrote something else on his clipboard and said, “Don’t worry though, once classes and clubs start it’ll get a lot easier. Time will fly just like that! In the meantime though, I should warn you that plants don’t tend to last very long in this dorm. Not enough sunlight at this angle, I’m afraid.”

“Uh,” Sicheng paused, unsure of what to say. “Thanks?”

“No problem!” Kun gave him a thumbs up. “Anyway, I gotta check on the kid next door. My room’s at the end of the hall if you ever need anything. Except condoms. I refuse to encourage irresponsible behavior—if you’re gonna have sex, have the decency to buy your own protection!”’

_Okay…_ “Right,” Sicheng deadpanned.

Kun smirked. “You seem pretty cool, Sicheng. I think I’ll take you under my wing.”

_Me, cool? Ha…ha…ha…_ He frowned. “What do you mean, take me under your wing?” _I didn’t exactly ask for that, either…_

“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing,” Kun shrugged nonchalantly. “Trust me, kid—you’re gonna need someone like me if you want to survive.”

And with that, he waved his clipboard as a goodbye and disappeared without closing the door behind him.

_Well then…_

Sure enough though, Kun did indeed take Sicheng under his wing—or, more accurately, he continuously kicked open the door without knocking and forcefully dragged Sicheng out to this club meeting or that social gathering or whatever restaurant he was craving on a certain day. At first Sicheng would get super irritated whenever Kun bulldozed his way in—“You could always learn how to lock your day, y’know,” his friend Minghao would dryly point out—but after a few weeks of the RA’s nonsense, Sicheng learned to just accept it. Kun seemed determined to be his mentor and guiding light, so it was easier to just go along with it. Besides, even though he’d never admit it in a million years, Kun was a great person and definitely his closest friend.

“Why me?” Sicheng once asked over hotpot. “I literally said like, ten words to you when we first met and you decided to take me in. Why’d you do it?”

Kun slurped up another spoonful before shrugging. “Dunno, honestly. I just felt like adopting a hopeless freshman so I did. You just got lucky.”

“Wow, I feel so honored,” Sicheng rolled his eyes. “And what do you mean, ‘adopting a hopeless freshman’? How am I hopeless?”

“You had that deer in headlights look in your eyes, so I just knew,” Kun laughed. “And don’t worry, Sicheng. You’ll get what I mean once your first year is over. Hell, I bet you’ll adopt your own lost freshman next year, too.”

“Fat fucking chance,” Sicheng shuddered. “I hate kids.”

Kun ended up being wrong: Sicheng didn’t adopt a lost freshman the following year.

He adopted two the year after that.

“Who are these pipsqueaks?” Kun demanded between mouthfuls of noodles, pointing an accusing finger at the doe-eyed freshmen sitting one on each of Sicheng’s sides.

_You’re not exactly tall yourself._ “Kun-ge, meet Huang Guanheng and Xiao Dejun,” he’d introduced, gesturing to each boy. “Guanheng and Dejun, meet Qian Kun—he’s basically my best friend, but we don’t talk about that.”

Kun scoffed. “I’m your _only_ friend!”

“Minghao and Junhui-ge beg to differ.”

“They don’t count; they don’t have the key to your room!”

“Neither do you—I leave the door unlocked and you kick it open whenever you feel like it!”

“Can you pass me the garlic?” Dejun innocently piped up.

“Not right now!” Sicheng and Kun barked at the same time.

Guanheng slowly inches away from Sicheng. “I didn’t realize you would be this weird, ge,” he remarks as he slide the garlic over to poor Dejun. Then, a wide—and rather dumb—grin spreads across Guanheng’s face and he says, “I think we’ll be great friends!”

As it turned out, Guanheng wasn’t wrong. Other than the occasional times in which Sicheng wanted to rip his hair out because of his crackhead friends’ antics, they did make a great team together. Although Kun would graduate before he could meet Yangyang, Sicheng’s third adopted lost boy, it didn’t take long for their four-piece unit to become five. 

And now, fast forward to modern times, it looks like old habits die hard because Sicheng? He’s just (unwillingly) adopted another hopeless boy—only this time it isn’t a college freshman.

“For the fifteenth time, you press two to transfer the call to secretary!” Sicheng exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Three is directly to manager, four is to assistant manager, five is to sales, six is to customer relations, seven is to accounting, and eight is to HR! Do you understand me now?”

Lucas’s mouth falls open as he solemnly nods. “Ahhhh, that’s right. I keep getting secretary and accounting mixed up,” he sighs, sounding bitterly disappointed in himself. Then, with a cheerful smile, he scribbles down the correct numbers on a post-it note and sticks it on his monitor—the collection of notes increases every day, and Sicheng’s started to get nervous because there aren’t any signs of Lucas actually recalling any of the information on the them.

Wong Yukhei/Huang Xuxi/Hwang Wookhee/Lucas Wong is, to put it bluntly—and perhaps a bit harshly—a mess. He stumbled into the office a few weeks ago with mismatched socks and a crooked tie, wrecking havoc left and right as he trailed after Sicheng like a puppy and chatting in Mandarin the whole time. 

“You’re never gonna improve your Korean if you keep speaking other languages,” Sicheng had chided in Korean, then sighed and repeated it in Mandarin because Lucas clearly had no idea what he’d just said.

“I already speak three languages, ge. I don’t know if my brain has space for a fourth,” Lucas responded with a bright smile. “But I’ll do anything for Mark, so I gotta learn!”

And then he proceeded to speak Mandarin for 90% of the day with the occasional Konglish for the other 10%. Classic. Fucking classic.

“Interesting kid, doncha think?” Baekhyun comments later, after Sicheng’s reminded Lucas of the phone lines for the sixteenth time. “Not exactly what I was expecting, but I like him.”

Sicheng side eyes him. “What exactly were you expecting?”

Baekhyun just laughs. “Not what we got, that’s for sure. Now here’s my address book—I won’t need it anymore, and it’s actually got some really important names and numbers here so I think you’ll find it helpful.”

Although Sicheng still disapproves of Chanyeol’s somewhat shady hiring methods, he’s got to admit that hiring Baekhyun was the best thing to ever happen to the office. They’ve always been and always will be a mess, but Baekhyun is the only actually sane person who can keep the team together. 

For the past few weeks, Baekhyun’s been coaching Sicheng through his secretary duties and even helping with Lucas—who honestly needs all the help he can get, really. Unlike Sicheng, who loses his mind pretty easily, Baekhyun’s patience is endless and he genuinely likes to help others. He plays good cop to Sicheng’s bad cop when it comes to teaching Lucas and, funnily enough, Lucas seems to learn more with Baekhyun. Go figure.

Except today is Baekhyun’s second to last day, which means that soon, Sicheng will be on his own.

It still doesn’t feel quite real, knowing he’s no longer going to be the receptionist. Sitting at the secretary’s desk feels odd—like he’s a stranger invading someone else’s space. Everything is different here, from the view to the people around him to the added responsibilities. Sicheng’s gotten so used to seeing Baekhyun sitting outside the private office that it feels downright wrong to be in his place now.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Sicheng jokes as he jots down notes on proper minute taking and meeting etiquette. 

Baekhyun sticks his tongue out. “Sorry, but it’s about time I left,” he replies cheerfully. “Trust me, it’s not like this place is gonna fall apart the second I leave. You’ll all be just fine.”

“Yeah, but without you and Sunyoung-noona we’re down the two most sane people in the office. We’re fucked,” Sicheng deadpans.

“Well, they’ve still got you to keep things in order,” Baekhyun grins unapologetically. “Although, with all the young blood in here things may just get even more chaotic than they already are.”

At the thought of the newly promoted interns and Lucas, Sicheng can’t help but shudder. “I may just lose my fucking mind,” he bemoans.

Baekhyun thumps him on the back. “C’mon, you can do it! I believe in you!”

“But do you believe in Lucas?” Sicheng raises a brow.

“I,” Baekhyun begins, only to pause and think that over for a second. “Well, let’s just say that he’s exceeded expectations so far, so all we can do is hope.”

In unison, the two glance over to where Lucas sits at the receptionist’s desk, brow furrowed in a mix of concentration and frustration as he slowly talks on the phone, no doubt struggling with his Korean.

“Well, he’ll get there some day,” Baekhyun muses. “Until then, just be patient with him. I have a feeling he’ll be here for a while.”

“Why do I have that same feeling?” Sicheng sighs.

Overall, though, Lucas isn’t half bad.

Something Sicheng picks up on almost immediately is that, although easily distracted and a bit too goofy for his liking, Lucas is, in fact, a quick learner. At least, quick at some things. His Korean is improving at a frustratingly slow rate and he still hasn’t memorized the goddamn phone lines, but he has a good sense of arranging schedules and can somehow still communicate over the phone fairly well despite his limited vocabulary. Lucas is hard-working too, even if he doesn’t look or act like he is. More often than not, Sicheng finds him still sitting at the front desk during his lunch break, a sandwich in one hand and Korean textbook in the other. The only way he can be coerced away from studying is for Mark to pout at him, which works like a fucking charm every single time.

So, yeah. Sicheng doesn’t hate or even dislike Lucas as much as he pretends to (yes, what a surprise coming from the number one tsundere). It _would_ be nice if Lucas’s Korean were just a bit better, but the guy’s trying his best and learning new languages is hard. Other than that, Sicheng doesn’t really have any gripes with him.

That’s not to say he’s not _confused_ about some things, though.

For one, how in the _hell_ are Lucas and Mark a couple?

“I mean, they’re not exactly polar opposites,” Yuta comments as they eat lunch together in the break room. “If anything, I’d say they’re pretty similar. Like, they’re both the younger brother type.”

Sicheng hums in acknowledgment as he swipes a piece of Yuta’s fish with his chopsticks. “Yeah but Mark can at least fool us into thinking he’s super mature. Lucas doesn’t even bother.”

“Not everyone’s got a hidden side,” Yuta points out with a teasing grin. “Sorry to disappoint, Prince Tsundere.”

“Call me that again and you sleep on the floor,” Sicheng quips, stealing another piece in retaliation. He inconspicuously slides his gaze over to one of the other tables and quietly says, “Try telling me that that doesn’t confuse you at least a little bit.”

Yuta follows his line of sight over to where Mark and Lucas sit together. Currently it’s only the four of them in the room, but the younger couple are completely absorbed in each other as they talk and laugh without a care in the world. Lucas keeps holding his chopsticks up and trying to force feed Mark some noodles, which Mark accepts with only the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. Sicheng would like to gag because _ew, domesticity_ , but then he remembers how just the other day, Yuta managed to coerce him into slow dancing in the living room to some angsty ballads, so perhaps he isn’t one to judge.

Besides, he’s more disturbed by the fact that it’s Mark of all people who’s giving in to such domestic actions. Although it’s a well-established fact that Mark Lee is a big dork who lives to bother Johnny Seo (R.I.P. that though, since Johnny is in Incheon and all), he’s always been higher on the normal scale than the crazy. The poor boy still gets overwhelmed by some of the antics that go on, except now, with the arrival of his beloved boyfriend, a new side to Mark has been revealed.

The completely, utterly, irrevocably, absolutely, unconditionally, one hundred percent whipped side.

“Oof, I should get back to work now,” Lucas announces, but not before shoving one last piece of chicken into Mark’s mouth. “Bye! I love you!” He calls while skipping back to the main office.

“Bye!” Mark calls to his boyfriend’s retreating figure, a small pout lining his lips. 

Dear lord, just _how_ whipped is this boy?

Sicheng elbows Yuta. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He hisses.

“Hell yeah,” Yuta agrees.

Without another word, the two of them pick up their lunches and make a beeline for Mark’s table. 

“Um,” Mark blinks as Yuta plops down on the seat to his right. “Uh, hi hyung? What’s up?”

“That’s a very good question,” Yuta nods seriously. “We’re holding an intervention, that’s what.”

Mark’s seagull-like eyebrows furrow. “Sicheng-hyung too?”

Sicheng, who’s seated on his left, glowers. “What do you mean, me too? I was the one who suggested this!”

“Well it’s just, usually I’d except Ten-hyung to do something like this, not you.”

“Fair enough,” Sicheng concedes. Then, with a scowl, he adds, “But that’s not the point. We still need to have an intervention.”

“Okay?” Mark tilts his head to the side. “About what?”

Yuta leans closer with a shit-eating grin. “About your boyfriend,” he replies in a singsong voice.

Mark blanches. “Oh my god, you’re going to fire him already, aren’t you?” He frets. Snatching at Sicheng’s arms, the new HR rep begs, “Sicheng-hyung, please reconsider! I know he’s a mess and sucks at Korean but at least give him another week! I-I’ll pull all nighters teaching him Korean if that helps! I’ll do anything, just name it!”

“Relax, kid,” Sicheng mutters as he gently extricates his sleeves from Mark’s iron grip of desperation. “We’re not about to fire him. We just have a few questions about your relationship, that’s all.”

“Like what?” Mark inquires curiously.

Sicheng exchanges glances with Yuta. _You wanna go first or should I?_

_I got this_ , Yuta smirks. “For starters, how long have you been together?”

“Oh god, I don’t remember. Four, almost five years maybe?”

Sicheng, who’d been in the midst of taking a sip of water, promptly chokes. “That long?” He exclaims, utterly dumbfounded. 

“Yup,” Mark nods innocently.

“How the—holy shit—wait, but when and where did you first meet?” Sicheng demands, brain still unable to process the fact that annoying kid brother Mark Lee has been in a committed relationship for _five fucking years_. And with someone like Lucas of all people, too! “Aren’t you from like, Canada? And he’s from Hong Kong? Where on earth did you meet each other?”

Mark’s forehead scrunches as he thinks. “I think we were nineteen? He spent a year abroad at my college in Vancouver and we met through the music club. We did long distance after he went back to his original school.”

“Wait,” Yuta holds up a hand in disbelief. “So you’re saying that out of the five years you’ve been together, you were only actually physically together for one of those years?”

“I mean, technology makes it pretty easy to keep in touch,” Mark points out sagely.

“Is this what the kids these days call modern romance?” Yuta wonders out loud.

“Guess so,” Sicheng shrugs. 

Mark shoots the both of them weird looks. “Is that all? Are we done with the interrogation now?”

Yuta awkwardly bares his teeth. _I didn’t think far enough ahead._

_Neither did I_ , Sicheng cringes.

_So what do we do now?_

_Uhh, ask him something else? Something random?_

_Like what?_

_Hell if I know._

“Are you guys doing like, couple telepathy or something?” Mark pipes up, eyes flitting back and forth between his seniors in interest. “Because not gonna lie, that’s pretty cool. Whenever I try to do that with Lucas he never gets the hint.”

“Couples telepathy?” Sicheng repeats blankly. _How…domestic…_

“You’ve been together for five years and still can’t communicate telepathically?” Yuta teases, ruffling Mark’s hair like he would a puppy. “Bet long distance and technology can’t teach you that, huh?”

Mark frowns and sulkily bats Yuta’s hand away from him. “No, it’s just because Lucas is oblivious,” he grumbles, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Yuta smirks and beckons for Mark to come closer. “You wanna know the secret, kid?” He whispers conspiratorially.

“Stop messing with him,” Sicheng roll his eyes. “Telepathy isn’t real, Mark. It’s just what happens when you spend a lot of time together and eventually become more and more similar because—”

_Wait._

Oh, god.

Before he can delve any deeper into the restricted filing cabinet in his head for thoughts he’d rather not think about, Sicheng’s snapped out of his uneasy daze by the sight of Yuta cupping his hands around Mark’s ear and murmuring something. Mark’s eyes widen and he lets out an _ahhh_ of realization, nodding studiously to every word Yuta lets him in on.

When both of their gazes land on him in a rather unsettling manner, Sicheng decides he’s had quite enough. “What?” He snaps, defensively crossing his arms over his chest not unlike the childish way Mark did earlier. “Care to share with the rest of us?”

Yuta just smiles mysteriously. “I dunno, Sichengie. You tell me, since we’ve got this whole telepathy thing going on, after all.”

_The audacity of this bitch…_ “Ha ha ha, very funny,” Sicheng deadpans, eyeing his boyfriend with narrowed eyes.

Clearly he doesn’t look very intimidating, because Yuta tosses his head back and laughs, then gets up and starts to clear away their dishes. “You’ll figure it out some day, Winko-Winko,” he sings. With a wave, he sticks his tongue out and sashays out of the break room, leaving a very confused and slightly annoyed Sicheng to consider the pros and cons of breaking up with such a strange boyfriend. 

Mark studies Sicheng with great interest. “You guys are pretty funny,” he comments, nose scrunching as he smiles boyishly. “It finally makes sense now.”

“What finally makes sense now?” Sicheng demands suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing!” Mark hums, whistling casually as he too gets up and heads for the door. “See ya later, Sicheng-hyung! Please don’t fire my boyfriend!”

“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you!” Sicheng shouts after Mark’s retreating figure, only to get a mischievous giggle in response.

_Fuck my life._

Baekhyun and Sunyoung’s last day is, to put it simply, surprisingly uneventful.

There’s no tearful farewell party or even a party at all other than a cake sitting in the break room for anyone who wants a slice. Sunyoung, who’s started showing more and more, spends most of the day cleaning out her desk and organizing all her belongings into boxes. Sicheng, who doesn’t have anything to do since Lucas has taken over his old job and Baekhyun still has to clear out his own desk too, agrees to help her. Besides, he rather likes having a valid excuse to hang out with Yuta during work hours—but don’t tell anyone he said that.

“It’s about time Jeno upgraded to a big boy desk,” Sunyoung sighs, throwing a disdainful glance at the small, intern-sized desk haphazardly shoved up against Ten’s. “Now that he’s been promoted, I bet he’ll be glad to have his own space.”

“I think he’ll probably still hang out with Jaemin more,” Sicheng remarks, gesturing over to the accounting cubicles where Jeno’s occupying himself by playing with Jaemin’s fluffy hair.

Sunyoung shakes her head with a fond smile. “Some things never change. I’m really gonna miss it here.”

“And we’ll miss you too, noona!” Ten beams. Then, in a more serious tone, he whisper-shouts, “But why’d we have to lose you instead of Doyoung?”

Doyoung sniffs. “Y’know, I really thought I’d be getting my old desk back once Johnny-hyung ditched, but I guess the world just hates me,” he complains.

“Like you deserve your old desk,” Yuta quips under his breath.

Doyoung responds by ever so maturely throwing a pen at him.

“Oi!” Sicheng glares at the bunny-faced tech specialist. “You want me to give you the Ten treatment, too?”

“I’ll pass,” Doyoung mutters reluctantly at the same time Ten squawks, “The Ten treatment?”

Yuta holds out his hand for a high five without taking his eye off his monitor—surprisingly, he’s actually doing work for once instead of watching anime. “Good to know you always got my back, Sichengie.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sicheng agrees, slapping his boyfriend’s palm.

“ _Fucking whipped,_ ” Ten coughs conspicuously. Like he’s one to talk—Sicheng’s seen the way Ten quite literally stares at Johnny with hearts in his eyes. Thank the heavens that Johnny doesn’t work here anymore, because that would have been way too many whipped couples for one office.

Sunyoung groans as she opens yet another drawer chock full of loose papers and random objects. “Huh,” she remarks, bending down to pull something out. “So _that’s_ where my flats went. Go figure.”

“You store shoes in your desk?” Sicheng asks skeptically.

“What, you don’t?” Sunyoung retorts.

Sicheng chooses not to argue with that and continues to dutifully organize Sunyoung’s personal items. “Why do you have this much stuff anyway, noona?” He wonders.

“Because there are some things I need to take out of the house in order to hide them from Jongdae,” she explains. Conjuring a rather bizarre wolf hat out of nowhere, she pointedly adds, “No way in hell was I about to let him set foot outside with this monstrosity on. He thinks he lost it, but I’ve been hiding it here so I can one day burn it.”

“Hey!” A loud, unmistakable voice yells from all the way across the room. “I _knew_ you stole that from me! Give it back!”

“In your wildest dreams!” Sunyoung shoots back at her husband. “You ever wear this again and I’m divorcing you and taking the kids!”

That effectively shuts Jongdae up.

“Ooh, don’t forget about this, noona,” Ten chimes in, excitedly picking up Sunyoung’s “Highest Booze Tolerance” plaque. “If nothing else, always remember us through this.”

“You’re acting like I’m on my deathbed,” Sunyoung snorts. “I’m going on extended maternity leave, not retirement. Quit being so dramatic all the time.”

Ten scowls as he all but throws the plaque back onto her desk. “What, it’s a crime to miss you? Gee, thanks, Mom.”

“Sorry son, but it’s about time you learned independence,” Sunyoung smirks, reaching over to aggressively ruffle Ten’s hair. “Your father and I were very nervous about leaving you without my immediate supervision, but we think you’ll be able to survive.”

Sicheng regards the pair with mild disgust. “I’ll never understand this weird family facade you play with Ten-hyung,” he muses.

“Clearly you don’t think of your friends as family,” Ten retorts sassily.

“Of course I think of them as family,” Sicheng rebuts. “That’s the only thing keeping me from murdering any of you.”

Ten’s jaw drops. “Did you just admit that we’re your friends? _And_ that you consider us as family?” He demands, pointing an accusing finger at Sicheng with a shit-eating grin on his stupidly smug face.

_Screw you, Chittaphon Whatever-the-fuck-your-last-name-is._ “Oh would you look at that, I think Baekhyun-hyung needs my help,” Sicheng cries out, feigning nonchalance as he speedwalks over to the soon-to-be-former secretary who most certainly does not require any assistance.

“I’m onto you, you tsundere!” Ten shouts at Sicheng’s retreating figure.

_Flip him off, you know you want to. C’mon, just do it!_

“Need any help, hyung?” He inquires, peering down at Baekhyun’s neatly categorized boxes and empty drawers.

Baekhyun’s head pops up from under his desk. “Oh, I’m all good!” He grins. “Just finished now, but if you’ve got the time I wouldn’t protest to you helping me move these to the car!”

“Sure, why not?” Sicheng nods, stooping down to pick up one of the biggest boxes. “I didn’t know you had a car, though.”

“Ah, I don’t—Chanyeol’s letting me borrow one of his for the day, actually,” Baekhyun corrects, humming as they head for the elevators. “I told him he didn’t have to but he insisted anyway. Well, I’m not about to turn an offer like that down!”

Sicheng nearly trips over his own feet. _Right, those two…_ “Hyung, I know this may sound rude or invasive, but…” He chews on his bottom lip, internally cursing himself for being so nosy. “Are you and Chanyeol-hyung…well, you know…”

Baekhyun turns his head to the side. “Inconclusive,” is all he says in a neutral tone.

_Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Ambiguous, much?_ “Ah, I see.”

The rest of the elevator ride is silent, as is the walk to the parking garage. Baekhyun fishes a set of keys from his pocket and unlocks the trunk of a tall black car. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Or actually, I have two favors,” Baekhyun speaks up, tone lighthearted yet gravely serious at the same time.

“Uh, okay?” Sicheng warily complies.

Baekhyun takes his time in setting his boxes in the trunk and pushing them all the way against the backs of the seats. The sudden realization that this is quite possibly one of the last times he’ll ever see Baekhyun hits Sicheng—is this really it? Two and a half years of working together and it’s over with a quick goodbye? For the first time, Sicheng wishes he’d reached out more and gotten to really know Baekhyun.

“Be nice to Chanyeol,” Baekhyun articulates delicately, the smallest hint of a smile as he stares down at his slender hands. “I’ve already told you this before, but he really does have good intentions despite how misguided he can be. So have patience when it comes to him, because you’ll need a lot of it. But at the same time, don’t hesitate to call him out when he’s wrong. He’ll need that more often than you think.”

_You must really love him, don’t you?_ “Okay,” Sicheng promises, and even though he’s not usually the type to be like this he genuinely wants to keep his word.

Baekhyun exhales quietly. “And be nice to Ten, too,” he winks. “He’s grown up a lot since last summer but still loses his way sometimes. I know you actually do see him as a friend, Sicheng—you don’t have to be best friends, but just keep an eye on him for me, okay? I’d like my godson to be happy, if nothing else.”

“I think I’ll leave it at that,” Baekhyun gently cuts in before Sicheng can even open his mouth. Gently, he taps Sicheng on the shoulder and says, “Good luck with everything, Sicheng. Invite me to your wedding whenever you and Yuta decide to get married.”

And with that, Byun Baekhyun offers him one last smile before getting into the car and driving out of the parking garage in the most subdued of goodbyes, leaving Sicheng standing rooted in place as a single word invades every corner of his mind.

_Wedding?_

_Kim Jongdae created a new group chat with Park Chanyeol, Son Seungwan, Moon Taeil, Nakamoto Yuta, Kim Doyoung, Ten, Park Sooyoung, Dong Sicheng, Mark Lee, Lucas Wong, Lee Jeno, and Na Jaemin!_

_Kim Jongdae changed the group name to “office idiots two point oh”_

_Kim Jongdae: Since three of our comrades have fallen in the span of a month, I figured it was about time we made a new group chat and added Lucas._

_Park Chanyeol: Dae, none of our friends are dead. Stop talking like they are._

_Kim Jongdae: You want me to kick you out, Mr. Manager? Because you know I’m not afraid to do so_

_Park Chanyeol: …_

_Kim Jongdae: Thought so._

_Lucas Wong: Whoa, I’m in a group chat now! I’m finally a part of the team!_

_Mark Lee: Oh my Jesus this isn’t going to end well_

_Mark Lee: @Kim Jongdae hyung, what have you done?_

_Kim Jongdae: What do you mean, what have I done? I’m making your boyfriend feel more welcome!_

_Mark Lee: Yeah, but he’s a bit of a, erm, how should I put it…_

_Lucas Wong: H_

_Lucas Wong: E_

_Lucas Wong: L_

_Lucas Wong: L_

_Lucas Wong: O_

_Lucas Wong: E_

_Lucas Wong: V_

_Lucas Wong: E_

_Lucas Wong: R_

_Lucas Wong: Y_

_Lucas Wong: B_

_Lucas Wong: O_

_Lucas Wong: D_

_Lucas Wong: Y_

_Lucas Wong: :D :D :D :D :D_

_Dong Sicheng: Oh my fucking god_

_Kim Doyoung: By any chance @Mark Lee, were you trying to warn us that he’s a serial spam texter?_

_Mark Lee: :’) I’m truly so very sorry, everyone :’)_

_Lucas Wong: M_

_Lucas Wong: A_

_Lucas Wong: R_

_Lucas Wong: K_

_Dong Sicheng: If you so much as think about spam texting the rest of that sentence I’ll fire you._

_Lucas Wong: :(_

_Park Chanyeol: Don’t listen to him Lucas, Sicheng doesn’t actually have that kind of power._

_Park Chanyeol: But uh, seriously though. Please refrain from spam texting. Please. For everyone’s sake._

_Lucas Wong: Sir, yes sir! I’ll keep thing short and simple!_

_Kim Jongdae: I must say, your Korean’s better than I thought. Consider me thoroughly impressed._

_Mark Lee: Well, I’d say he’s about 90% fluent when it comes to reading and writing. Actually speaking though is a different story._

_Lucas Wong: Yup, Mark’s right as usual <3 But I’m working hard! Sicheng-ge is a great tutor!_

_Dong Sicheng: I’m a great what now? Since when have I been your tutor?_

_Lucas Wong: He’s the best mentor I could’ve asked for!_

_Dong Sicheng: Um_

_Dong Sicheng: Is this some kind of alternate universe? Am I being pranked?_

_Lucas Wong: Geeeeeeeeeeeeee—why do you doubt me so much TT_TT_

_Dong Sicheng: Christ_

_Ten: Wow, I think this is the most I’ve ever seen Sicheng talk in a group chat before. History’s been made, fellas._

_Lucas Wong: Awwwwww, am I helping you come out of your shell, Sicheng-ge? I’m so honored :’)_

_Dong Sicheng: I literally can’t right now_

_Park Sooyoung: Should’ve known this would happen once Sunyoung-unnie left._

_Son Seungwan: Guess it’s up to us now to maintain any level of sanity in this office. Deepest of sighs._

_Nakamoto Yuta: Noona, you’re saying that like you contribute to the sanity level in any way._

_Ten: Stole the words right out of my mouth._

_Son Seungwan left the group_

_Kim Jongdae added Son Seungwan to the group_

_Kim Jongdae: You’re not running away that easily, punk_

The first day without Baekhyun and Sunyoung goes…well, it goes a little like this:

Sicheng gets to work extra early and knocks on Chanyeol’s office door as instructed. After hearing Chanyeol call an affirmative, Sicheng pushes open the door and steps inside, mouth partway open to address his manager.

The sight inside the private office, however, causes the words to die in his throat and be replaced with an astounded “What the hell?”

Because sitting on top of a blue blanket on the floor is a child no older than two, peering up at him with unnervingly analytical eyes.

“Oh, morning, Sicheng!” Chanyeol waves as if it’s a totally normal day. “Thanks for coming in early like I asked!”

“What,” Sicheng steadily repeats, temples already starting to throb, “the _hell_ is a kid doing here?”

“Hmm?” Chanyeol tilts his head. He follows Sicheng’s gaze and clicks his tongue in realization. “Ah, yes—this is my son, Jisung. Jwi, say hi to Uncle Sicheng, okay?”

The toddler blinks. “Hi, Uncle” Jisung greets soullessly. 

Sicheng closes his eyes and takes in the deepest breath of all deep breaths. _Do not lose your cool, Sicheng. You got this. It’s just another day at this wacky place. Just proceed calmly and get on with your day._

Unfortunately, when he opens his eyes, baby Park Jisung is still sitting there watching him with an unimpressed expression and Chanyeol still seems completely unbothered, whistling a merry tune as his fingers clack inhumanly fast across his mechanical keyboard.

“Not to be,” Sicheng hesitates so he can fish for the right words. “ _Intrusive_ or anything, but why is your son, well, _here_ , at the office, instead of at home or daycare? 

Is it just a trick of the light, or is Chanyeol’s smile rather strained? “Would you believe me if I said it’s Bring Your Child to Work Day?”

Sicheng just stares at him.

Posture sagging, Chanyeol groans and twists his fingers into his hair. “I just…I just want to spend more time with him, that’s all,” he confesses, guilt weighing down his voice until it’s barely a whisper. “I’m so busy with work all the time that I constantly have to leave him with sitters, so I figured maybe I could take him to work with me and kill two birds with one stone.”

Now Sicheng certainly isn’t a father and wouldn’t know the first thing about being one, but there’s something about Chanyeol’s plan that doesn’t quite sit well with him. _Killing two birds with one stone isn’t something you should do when your kid is one of the birds_ , he wants to say, but holds his tongue instead. _Not my problem; don’t get involved when it doesn’t concern you._

“CEO Kim is okay with that?” He asks instead. Kim Taeyeon certainly puts up with a lot from this branch, but the manager bringing a two year old to work? That’s new even for this bizarre team.

“Uhhhh,” Chanyeol smiles sheepishly, and that’s answer enough.

“You’ve got to be fu—” Sicheng starts, only to remember there’s an impressionable child in the room (a dead-to-the-world child, but still an impressionable one nonetheless). With Jisung’s piercing gaze pinned on him, Sicheng corrects himself and says, “You’ve got to be _joking_ , hyung. No offense, but did you actually think this through?”

Chanyeol’s smile is so watered down and weary it can hardly be counted as one any more. “Let’s just say that I’m not good at listening to my conscience these days,” he replies weakly.

This is most certainly not how Sicheng thought his first day as secretary would go, and he definitely isn’t liking it so far. “You’re just gonna make him sit there all day? We even have a meeting during lunch—what’s he gonna eat?” Sicheng points out, the telltale signs of an impending splitting headache buzzing at his temples.

“Oh, _shi_ — _shoot_ ,” Chanyeol curses, smacking himself on the forehead. “I’ll just, uh, cancel the meeting. Yeah, I can do that. It’s not like it was that important anyway—”

“You’re sealing a big deal today!”

“ _Fu—_ frick!”

_Idiots. I work with idiots and don’t get paid nearly enough for it._ “I’ll ask one of the others to watch over him for an hour while we’re at the meeting. Ten’s babysat him before, right?” Sicheng sighs. _Wish this shit had been in the job description._

Chanyeol casts a nervous glance at his still unfazed son. “Yeah, he has. Thanks so much, Sicheng—hasn’t even been five minutes yet and you’re already saving my a—butt,” he exhales, relief washing over his face.

_Then stop putting yourself into positions that result in you needing to be saved._ “No problem. That’s my job, after all,” Sicheng forces through his teeth. “Although, you really couldn’t give him some toys or something? What’s he supposed to do, file paperwork all day?”

“Oh, Jwi’s not really into toys. He’s got a bunch at home but never plays with them,” Chanyeol laments worriedly.

Sicheng frowns. “So what does he do all day then?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “His sitters tell me he just kinda stares at them like he can see through their souls. Does pretty much the same with me, too.”

Directing his attention back to the toddler, Sicheng must admit that Chanyeol’s not wrong. Jisung doesn’t seem particularly bored without toys as he occupies himself with kicking his legs up and down in the air, then shooting his father unreadable looks.

_I get why Ten calls him the Satan child now._ “Okay, then. Well if that’s all settled, why don’t we talk about whatever you called me in early for?”

“Ah, yes,” Chanyeol nods. He reaches down and strokes his son’s hair, murmurs, “Be a good boy and Daddy will play with you in a minute, okay?”

Park Jisung’s only reaction is to scrunch his nose with disdain beyond his years.

Luckily, next few hours go fairly smoothly. Chanyeol delivers him some quick instructions before sending Sicheng off to his new desk. Baekhyun’s left his mark in the form of cute, encouraging post-it notes littered across the desk, in the drawers, and on the monitor. _Remember to shred these documents! Take great minutes today! Don’t forget to eat well~! You got this! :D_

Ah, Baekhyun. What a true gem.

Sicheng decides that he rather likes his new vantage point—mostly because he need only stare straight ahead to get the perfect view of Yuta’s smile—and admittedly, he doesn’t hate being closer to the other desks. Sooyoung and Taeil are only a few meters behind him now instead of all the way across the room, which makes it much easier to inconspicuously drop by whenever he feels like killing some time. It’s a bit strange to look over at sales and find Jeno at Sunyoung’s old desk instead of by Ten’s side or to see Mark working away at Johnny’s—and Doyoung’s—old desk. Even Jaemin, who hasn’t actually moved desks, seems different now that he no longer needs to listen to Seungwan’s every word and can do tasks by himself. The changes certainly feel jarring, but not unwelcome.

And then Lucas calls him over to ask about the phone lines again, which sours Sicheng’s mood for a good half an hour.

At exactly noon, Chanyeol emerges from his private office with Jisung in his arms. “Here you go,” he announces brightly, all but shoving his son onto Ten’s lap. “All yours for the next hour!”

Ten recoils in horror. “Hyung, you do realize this child does nothing but mock me, right?” He whines.

Jisung perks up for the first time all day. “Uncle Shortie!” The toddler cheers, eagerly pawing at Ten’s dress shirt.

“That’s just how he shows love,” Chanyeol chuckles. “Now have fun! Make sure he eats all his fruits and vegetables!”

“You’d better think twice before expecting me to touch fruit!”

Sicheng, who’s patiently waiting by Chanyeol’s side, makes eye contact with Yuta. _Make sure neither of them kill each other._

Because he’s a goddamn anime character come to life, Yuta’s eyes fucking _twinkle_ in amusement. _No promises._

The meeting also goes smoothly, with a simple reviewing of terms and signing of the deal. Sicheng dutifully takes minutes in neat Hangul, making a mental note to stop by the copier later so he and Chanyeol can both have the details. Chanyeol, whose mood brightened considerably after the successful meeting, treats Sicheng to coffee and a slice of cake at the company café before they head back upstairs.

To sum up what happens next in simple terms, they should’ve stayed on the first floor.

The elevator doors slide open to reveal Kim Doyoung leering at them, an unnaturally wide grin plastered on his face. “Well hello, hyung, Sicheng. Fancy meeting you here,” Doyoung whistles completely unconvincingly.

Sicheng narrows his eyes. “We work on this floor,” he points out blankly.

“Oh that’s right, you do!” Doyoung exclaims louder than necessary. The stress on his face is evident as he anxiously glances back at the entrance to the main office. “It’s been what, two and a half years already? Wow, time sure flies, doesn’t it! Man, I still remember the first time we met and I pranked you by hiding your stapler and—”

“Doyoung,” Chanyeol cuts in, expression perplexed. “What’s going on? What are you hiding?”

Doyoung jumps. “Me, hiding something?” He laughs nervously. “Why would I be hiding anything? What gave you that preposterous idea?”

“You’re blocking our way, that’s what,” Sicheng scowls. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Right at that moment, a lithe figure dashes out of the office. “Dons,” Seungwan gasps, doubling over to steady her breathing. “I think I know where he is but we gotta hurry before oppa gets back and—oh heyyyyyyyy, Chanyeol-oppa! You’re back early!”

Chanyeol’s eye twitches. “For crying out loud—would someone tell me what the _hell_ is going on already!” He shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Dread pools in Sicheng’s stomach. Hesitantly, he taps Chanyeol on the shoulder and mutters, “I think they lost your son.”

“You _what_!” Chanyeol screeches, voice jumping up more octaves than humanly possible as he regards Seungwan and Doyoung in horror. “ _You lost my son?_ ”

Seungwan chuckles skittishly and holds her hands up in front of her. “Um, it’s kind of a long story. Basically Ten was watching over him but then he had to go to the bathroom so he asked Jongdae to cover, but then Jongdae got called down to a different floor so he asked Mark to take over, but then Mark got held up in this really long phone call and looked distracted so Jaemin offered to watch Jisung instead, but then he also had to use the bathroom so he asked Jeno, but then Jeno got called over by Taeil so he asked Lucas for help,” she rushes through her explanation in a single breath, doubling over once again after she’s finished.

“And now we have no idea where Lucas went,” Doyoung supplies helpfully.

If looks could kill, Seungwan and Doyoung would be buried six feet under right now. “How could you be so irresponsible?” Chanyeol demands angrily, face red and Sicheng swears he can see steam coming out of the manager’s elfish years. “Is it that hard to watch over a child? Why were you just passing him around like he’s some kind of toy? He’s only two—imagine how scared he must be right now! Why the fuck did you let Lucas disappear like that— _how_ the fuck could you let this happen?”

In all the years Sicheng’s known Chanyeol, he’s seen many sides to him. The jocular, easy-going manager who lets his workers get away with more bullshit than they should. The awkward team dad who accepts roasts with gracious defeat. The guy whose hiring methods are questionable at best and straight unfair and biased at worst. The one who unconditionally loves his team and wants them to all stay together.

But he’s never seen _this_ side to Chanyeol before: the furious, upset, and scared shitless father worrying for his young son’s safety.

Sicheng touches Chanyeol’s elbow in what he hopes to be a comforting motion. “It’s gonna be okay, hyung,” he states firmly. “We’ll call security and check every room on this floor. Jisung’s too short to reach any of the elevator buttons so he’s gotta be here somewhere if he’s not with Lucas. Then we can check the cameras if there’s still no luck. C’mon, you need to stay calm when things like this happen.”

“Calm, huh? That’s awfully hard at this moment,” Chanyeol spits out bitterly, but the tension in his shoulders loosens just a fraction. “Okay, let’s do that. Sicheng, you call security and I’ll look with the others. We have to check every inch of this floor—if my son has been harmed in any way, I swear to god—”

_Ding!_

Behind them, the elevator opens and out steps Lucas Wong with a cup of ice cream in one hand and Park Jisung in the other.

“Hey guys!” He acknowledges them with a sunny smile, the corners of his enormous eyes crinkling. “How was your meeting?”

“Jisung!” Chanyeol exclaims, rushing over with fretful eyes. “Is he okay? Where were you? How could you just disappear like that and scare us? Did you even think twice before ditching work like that?”

Lucas reels back in surprise. “Huh? But I’m on break and left a note at my desk saying I took Jisungie out for ice cream?” He replies, looking utterly baffled at Chanyeol’s accusations.

Seungwan’s mouth falls open. “Ohhh, so that’s what that said,” she marvels, facepalming at the realization. “Sorry, but your handwriting’s pretty bad so none of us could read it.”

Chanyeol’s frown only deepens. “Why would you take him out for ice cream?” He snaps, voice rising with each word. “You didn’t even think to ask for my permission before taking him out of the building? You couldn’t tell someone instead of leaving a note no one can read?”

“Okay okay, I’ll admit that I could have communicated better,” Lucas concurs. Nonetheless, he remains unfazed as Chanyeol practically burns him with his eyes and instead readjusts his grip on Jisung—who, by the way, has never looked more content. With a shrug, Lucas goes on to explain in a breezy tone, “It’s just that everyone else kept passing him around and no one seemed to actually be looking after him, so I thought I’d keep him company. At first he just sat on my lap while I worked and I took him to the break room when I went on lunch break—I even helped him find his lunchbox and feed him! But he still seemed hungry so I asked what else he wanted to eat, and he said that he likes ice cream but ‘Daddy no time’, so I felt bad and took him to the convenience store across the street. We left maybe fifteen minutes ago and I’m even back a few minutes early because I want to surprise Mark with ice cream. That’s all, I swear!”

_Oh god_ , Sicheng thinks, watching in pity as Chanyeol’s face falls in a crestfallen mess. _Oh god, what have you done?_

“I-I-I see,” Chanyeol coughs into his sleeve. Awkwardly, he scratches at the back of his neck and mumbles, “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Lucas. And, um, thank you for taking good care of him.”

“No problem!” Lucas nods happily. “He’s really well-behaved so it was easy—he didn’t even spill any ice cream or get it over his face! Count yourself lucky, sir!”

Chanyeol doesn’t even bother trying for a smile. “I sure am,” he mumbles.

Lucas beams as he transfers Jisung from his arms to Chanyeol’s. “Seeya, Mochisung!”

Dare Sicheng say it, but Jisung actually _smiles_. “Bye, Uncle!” He giggles, waving as his newfound friend strolls down the hallway.

Seungwan and Doyoung silently exchange glances before they too excuse themselves, leaving Sicheng with a lost Chanyeol and a no longer smiling Jisung.

_Talk to him_ , the more sympathetic part of his brain urges. _He needs it. You know he needs to hear what you have to say._

“We should get back to work,” he says. “Lots to do and only so many hours in the day.”

“Right,” Chanyeol agrees listlessly, staring at his son as if he’s never seen him before.

More pity stabs at Sicheng’s heart, but he wills it away and forces his legs to carry him down the hall and through the office over to his desk. 

_Not my problem, not my concern._

He’s gonna keep telling himself that until he believes it.

_Feeling that V_

_Huang Guanheng: Have you ever thought about what would happen if the government cloned you but then your clone killed you and took over your life as if nothing happened?_

_Liu Yangyang: Um, random much?_

_Huang Guanheng: WHAT IF THE ENTIRE WORLD WAS TAKEN OVER BY CLONES AND THEY STARTED REPRODUCING THEN WOULD THEY STILL BE CALLED CLONES EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE THE ONLY ONES LEFT?_

_Qian Kun: First of all, I knew I shouldn’t have let you watch Us because I fucking knew you’d get paranoid and start overthinking that shit (although admittedly yes it’s very disturbing and thought-provoking)_

_Qian Kun: Secondly, I sure hope that the clone who replaces you isn’t half as annoying_

_Qian Kun: And finally, go the fuck to sleep I think it’s past your bedtime_

_Huang Guanheng: TT_TT why must you hurt me so much ge TT_TT_

_Dong Sicheng: Can’t say I blame him_

_Xiao Dejun: Seconded_

_Xiao Dejun: Oh, ge! When are you gonna introduce us to your friend from Hong Kong?_

_Dong Sicheng: Wait how did you know about him_

_Dong Sicheng: @Qian Kun WHY DO YOU ALWAYS INSIST ON TELLING THEM THESE THINGS I CONFIDE TO YOU IN SECRET_

_Dong Sicheng: And please don’t call him my friend. I refuse to stoop that low_

_Liu Yangyang: Oooh Hong Kong? Ge can you please introduce him to us? We can increase our diversity even further!_

_Dong Sicheng: Why would we need to increase our diversity in the first place?_

_Liu Yangyang: I dunno, cuz it’s politically correct that way? Isn’t your team made up of people from all over for that same reason_

_Dong Sicheng: I—_

_Dong Sicheng: You may have a good point there._

_Huang Guanheng: So you’re saying we can meet this guy after all???!!! *_*_

_Dong Sicheng: Hell fucking no—I’ve already lost so many brain cells dealing with the three of you in one chat, the last thing I need is to add another annoying kid_

_Qian Kun: Pfft, I bet you’ve already adopted him anyway since that’s your thing_

_Qian Kun: You know, adopting lost boys_

_Dong Sicheng: I do NOT adopt lost boys_

_Xiao Dejun: Beg to differ_

_Liu Yangyang: Ditto_

_Huang Guanheng: We’re living proof that you do, ge_

_Dong Sicheng: And if I could send you back to the orphanage I would_

_Liu Yangyang: Can we meet him :’( Can we meet him please :’(_

_Dong Sicheng: No. N-O spells no._

_Huang Guanheng: Meh, I’m not that worried. We all know you’ll cave in one of these days._

_Xiao Dejun: Yup, definitely. And Kun-ge told me his name so in the meantime I’m gonna stalk a Lucas Wong on Weibo_

_Dong Sicheng: JOKES ON YOU HE HAS LIKE FOUR FUCKING NAMES AND I ONLY TOLD KUN-GE ONE OF THEM SO GOOD LUCK FINDING HIM_

_Xiao Dejun: [Attachment]_

_Xiao Dejun: Bin-fucking-go_

_Dong Sicheng: Shit_

For better or for worse, Park Jisung soon becomes a regular in the office.

When he’s not sitting on the same goddamn blanket—seriously, has that thing ever moved or been washed since the first day?—with a bored expression, he’s perched on Lucas’s lap all smiles and giggles. Happy-go-lucky Lucas is more than willing to watch over the toddler and constantly expresses his love for cute things and everything small (“That’s why I love Mark so much!” “ _Xuxi!_ ”)

Sicheng hasn’t interacted with the child other than an obligatory hello each morning when he checks in with Chanyeol (partially because Jisung doesn’t really show emotion to anyone besides Lucas or Ten, but mostly because he has no clue how the fuck he’s supposed to act around children after spending almost twenty-seven years insisting he hates them) but he’s got to admit that Jisung’s pretty cute. He’s got the most squishable mochi-like face (ugh, Yuta’s vocabulary has been rubbing off on him) and the way he scrunches his nose? Absolutely adorable. At least, Park Jisung is precious when he’s not staring into the depths of people’s souls with those bored eyes.

Mostly, Sicheng just feels bad for the kid. Jisung is the larger of the two birds Chanyeol’s trying to kill with one stone, and it shows.

He should have seen it coming, really, that things would eventually spiral out of control and lead to Chanyeol practically on his knees and hands clasped together in supplication.

“Please,” he begs. “Just for Friday night. I’m all out of options.”

Sicheng pinches the bridge of his nose as he inhales and thinks of the most diplomatic way to deal with this new tidal wave of bullshit. “I don’t know, hyung—are you sure no one else is available?”

Chanyeol nods miserably. “The usual sitter’s swamped with her finals, Jongdae and Sunyoung have their parents over, Ten’s got date night with Johnny, Sooyoung’s busy with wedding planning, who the fuck knows what’s up with Taeil, Seungwan’s visiting a friend, the young ones are going out on a bonding trip together, and Doyoung straight up said no,” he recites monotonously. “Which leaves you and Yuta as my only hopes. Please consider it; I have to attend the CEO's meeting.”

_No, you don’t_. “I don’t know,” Sicheng repeats wearily. Figuring a little white lie never hurt anyone, he adds, “We kind of have plans already for Friday night, actually, so…” _Plans of watching a movie on the couch and making out, that is._

“Oh. I see,” Chanyeol’s face falls. “Don’t worry about it then, Sicheng. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

_Ah, fuck._ Sicheng sighs, says, “Wait. So what are you gonna do then? You can’t just leave him home alone.”

Chanyeol bites down on his lower lip. “I can take him with me,” he declares shakily. “It’s okay, I can manage it. I’ll just leave a bit early and make sure he gets dinner on time and—”

“Hyung,” Sicheng interjects incredulously. “You can’t possibly be serious about taking a two year old to a three hour night meeting? What would he do the whole time?”

“ _I don’t know, okay?_ ” Chanyeol snaps defensively, hackles raised as he clutches at his temples and feverishly fixes his gaze on the corner of his desk. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing but I’m going to figure it out, I swear. I have to—it’s the only thing I can do.”

Sicheng huffs in frustration. “Look, I’m probably overstepping my boundaries by saying this, but you’re being an idiot right now.” _Wow, I’m just asking to get fired, aren’t I?_

Chanyeol’s nostrils flare. “Excuse me? Did you just say what I think you just said to me?”

_Joblessness here I come._ He squeezes his hands into fists, lifts his chin, and boldly declares, “You’re an idiot, hyung. Your solution makes no sense at all and the fact that you don’t even know how to make it work proves that. In fact, why the _hell_ are you bringing Jisung here every day? You just make him sit on the floor with nothing to do—no wonder he likes Lucas better!”

Instant regret washes over him after the words have left his mouth. Chanyeol’s white as a sheet, face stricken and twisted into an unpleasant grimace. Cautiously, Sicheng takes a step back, his sense of self-preservation finally kicking in. _Too far_ , he scolds himself. _Way, way, way too far for something that’s not your concern._

“I’m sorry,” Sicheng sighs, dipping his head in apology. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll see myself out—call me if you need anything.”

Not wanting to see that distorted expression anymore, Sicheng turns on his heel and all but dashes out of the private office, slamming the door behind him and making a beeline for the break room. Screw the fact that it’s not his break time—how is he supposed to just sit at his desk and get back to work like nothing happened after he just lost it like that? Not his problem, not his concern—then why did he get so involved in something that for sure isn’t related to him? 

Groaning, he leans against the counter and presses the heels of his hands to his forehead. _Snap out of it. You already acted unprofessionally in front of your boss, don’t fuck things up even more than you already have. Just go back after work and apologize—it’s the least you can do._

“Something wrong?”

Startled, Sicheng jerks his head in the direction the deep voice came from. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t noticed the presence of another person in the room—or, more accurately, the presence of _two_ other people in the room. Lucas peers back at him in concern, hand stilled in midair as he holds a spoon to the waiting mouth of the toddler on his lap.

“Just peachy,” Sicheng attempts to smile. “I may or may not have spoken out of line, that’s all.”

Lucas hums in understanding. He takes his time in making sure Jisung’s swallowed the spoonful of mashed vegetables and wipes the child’s mouth with a napkin before turning his attention back to the secretary. “Wanna talk about it?” He offers, gesturing to the open seat next to him.

_Not really._ “I could do with some company,” Sicheng gives in, making his way over and collapsing onto the chair. Jisung watches him curiously, eyes no longer unnerving the way they are whenever Sicheng sees him in the private office. “You two get along pretty well,” he remarks, resisting the temptation to squeeze one of Jisung’s cheeks. “Not gonna lie, I’m pretty surprised.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Lucas laughs, fondly patting Jisung’s head with one of those enormous hands of his. “I’ve always loved kids and Mochisung here is too adorable—but not as adorable as Mark, ya know?”

Sicheng cracks a smile. “I’m sure Mark would be happy to hear that.”

“Pffft, no he wouldn’t. He always complains when I call him cute, except can you blame me? He’s just so small and has tiny hands and have you seen his eyebrows?” Lucas sighs dreamily, big eyes drooping like a happy puppy’s. 

_Cute_. “He definitely has funny eyebrows.”

“ _Right_? He has no business being the most precious human being ever, but here he is looking like that!”

As Lucas rambles on about how much he loves Mark and how adorable Mark looks when he pouts and Mark’s clingy sleeping habits, Sicheng only half listens as he observes Jisung. The taciturn toddler’s vocabulary mostly consists of simple salutations, but sometimes Sicheng will pass by the receptionist’s desk and overhear excited, high pitched babbling accompanied by deep, booming laughter. Maybe that’s a side of the child reserved for Lucas and Lucas only, because Jisung hasn’t said a word the entire time since Sicheng intruded on their time together. He stares at Sicheng a bit warily, but more relaxed than usual. One of his little fists tightly grips Lucas’s shirt and he seems more than comfy seated on the receptionist’s lap. Jisung looks—dare Sicheng say it— _happy_ for once.

“I should get back to work,” Sicheng speaks up, interrupting Lucas’s story about the first time Mark introduced him to his parents. “But thanks for keeping me company, Lucas. I appreciate it a lot.”

Lucas grins. “Yes, sir! I’m always here to listen or talk at you, whichever you need!”

_They really were right when they said to not judge a book by its cover_. “Thank you,” he smiles, and it’s a genuine one for once. “Xuxi.”

_Feeling that V_

_Dong Sicheng added Huang Xuxi to the group!_

_Dong Sicheng: @Xiao Dejun @Liu Yangyang @Huang Guanheng don’t say I never did anything for you_

_Huang Xuxi: omg another group chat_

_Huang Xuxi: H_

_Huang Xuxi: E_

_Huang Xuxi: L_

_Dong Sicheng: Finish that sentence and I’m kicking you out_

_Huang Xuxi: Sir yes sir! >_<_

_Qian Kun: What_

A hand rubs the back of Sicheng’s neck, distracting him from reading the email on his monitor. “Hey, you ready to go home?” Yuta greets, work bag already slung over his shoulder and jacket draped over his arm.

“Wha, it’s already five?” Sicheng blinks, checking his watch in disbelief.

“Thinking too hard about something again?” Yuta tilts his head with a knowing smile. “Have you figured things out already or do you want to talk about it?”

Sicheng chooses not to respond just yet, instead leaning his head to the side so he can rest against Yuta’s arm as he logs out of his email and unplugs the monitor. “I’ll fill you in later, but I’m good for now. Thanks, though.”

“Mmm. Talk to me whenever you feel like it.”

Yuta keeps his hand at the base of Sicheng’s neck, gently massaging the tension out as Sicheng packs his things and turns off his devices. It’s nice, this—having someone to go home with and mutually support. When he first moved here, Sicheng had vehemently opposed the idea of getting into a relationship, thinking it would be too time-consuming and difficult to deal with, plus partners could sometimes be more trouble than they were worth. But Yuta makes things feel so _easy_ and natural, like they’re two halves of the same whole, as horribly cheesy as that may sound.

(And maybe that's just what scares him)

“Hey, you head out first,” Sicheng says, unable a shake a strange, unfamiliar feeling out of his head. “I need to talk to Chanyeol-hyung about something before I go. I’ll meet you at the car?”

“Sure,” Yuta nods, gazing at him with the smallest hint of concern. “Good luck with your talk. I’ll be waiting.”

He squeezes Sicheng’s shoulder reassuringly before heading out, throwing one arm around Ten and the other around Seungwan as he effortlessly joins in on the dynamic idiot duo’s bickering.

_And now for the hard part._

Bracing himself, Sicheng forces himself to his feet and concentrates on placing one foot in front of the other as he slowly inches his way to the manager’s office. The door’s been left shut ever since he ran out earlier, with no sign of life on the inside all afternoon.

A weary “Come in” is the only response when he knocks. Tentatively, he opens the door just a crack and pokes his head inside, not at all expecting to find Chanyeol with his head buried in his hands in a pitch dark office.

_What is he, thirteen?_ “Er, hi?” Sicheng speaks up, hesitantly flicking on the light switch. To his surprise, the blue blanket on the floor is unoccupied. “Are you, um, okay? Where’s Jisung?”

“I asked Lucas to hang out with him at the café for a bit,” Chanyeol mutters. With a short, bitter laugh, he adds, “Don’t want him to see me like this.”

Sicheng squints. “Are you _crying_?”

“So what if I am?” The manager admits without a trace of shame.

_Oh, hyung._ “Look,” Sicheng sighs, carding a hand through his hair. “I really am sorry about what I said earlier. Not only was it out of line, but also untrue. Please don’t take it to heart, hyung.”

Chanyeol still won’t look up. “You have no need to feel sorry,” he replies emotionlessly. “It’s not like you were wrong, either. Thanks for the reality check.”

“What, so throwing yourself a pity party is the best way to handle it?” Sicheng snaps, then immediately clamps a hand over his mouth. _Oh god, Ten’s rubbing off on me…_

“Well?” Chanyeol laughs that bitter, mirthless chuckle again. “What else am I supposed to do? Evidently the only thing I’m good at is it driving people away—I treated Kyungsoo like shit when I broke his heart, I’m not good enough for Baekhyun, and now Jisung prefers someone he met a few weeks ago to his own father? Tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do, because I’ve got zero fucking clue.”

Sicheng tries to find words— _that’s not true, you’re trying your best, you_ are _good enough_ —but his throat constricts and his lips refuse to move, too horrified by the scene playing out before him.

“I’ve done nothing but let them down,” Chanyeol speaks up in a pathetic whisper. “They loved me the most and I only hurt them over and over again.”

“I want to be someone they can be proud of,” he confesses. “Someone Kyungsoo can remember without sadness. Someone Baekhyun can still think of with hope. Someone Jisung can look up to and smile at. Fuck, I can’t even prioritize them over my work. I want them to love me, but some fucking person I am. They’re all better off without some selfish prick like me; I don’t deserve any of them.”

_Oh, hyung_. “Then,” Sicheng begins carefully. “Why not become someone who does?”

Slowly, Chanyeol raises his head from his hands, revealing bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and mussed hair. “What?” He whispers incredulously. He swallows, clears his throat, and meekly asks, “ _How_?”

_Aha._ Sicheng shifts his weight from side to side. “Well, I don’t know what happened with Kyungsoo or whatever’s going on with Baekhyun, and I’m not going to ask. But as far as Jisung goes, well, I don’t think you hates you—at least not yet, that is.”

Chanyeol’s face falls at that. _Oh, way to go Sicheng. A fucking plus._ “I mean,” he hurriedly corrects himself, “did it ever occur to you why he likes Lucas so much? It’s because Lucas can give him attention. I don’t know shit about kids, but isn’t it obvious that most two year olds just need someone to notice them?”

A lightbulb goes off in his head as he remembers something important. “Think about it—that time we all freaked out because we couldn’t find them, Lucas told us that Jisung said he likes ice cream, except he was sad because ‘Daddy no time’. When was the last time you took him out for ice cream or just for fun in general?”

Judging by the shame that clouds Chanyeol’s face, the answer probably isn’t a very good one.

Sicheng unconsciously starts picking at his fingernails. Gulping, he says, “I don’t doubt that you’re trying your best to balance work and personal matters, but maybe it’s not your effort that’s the problem, but the method. I mean, I get why bringing Jisung every day would seem like a good idea in theory, but what’s the point when you’re too swamped with your job that you can’t tend to him? What’s the point in being with him all the time when you can’t even give him fifty percent? Why not leave him at daycare so he can have fun with kids his age—that way you could focus more on work without worrying about him too much and then devoting your time to him in the evenings. I mean, we’re only here for nine hours; that gives you fifteen to still be with him. And I know that you’re busier than any of us, but maybe you don’t have to shoulder the burden by yourself. You don’t have to represent us at every gala or meeting or event; Jongdae-hyung is perfectly capable of filling in for you, and even I could if you really needed me to.”

Clasping his hands together behind his back, he quietly finishes with, “I’m not a father so I wouldn’t know how you’re feeling, but I know that if I were one, I’d rather give my kid fifteen good hours than twenty-four half-assed ones.”

_Who am I and what have I done with Dong Sicheng? Me, holding interventions for other peoples’ problems? Since when?_

The look on Chanyeol’s face, however, is enough to let Sicheng know it was worth it. His cheeks are lined with fresh tears and his eyes are still red, but the way his mouth is thinned to a line screams pure determination. Resolution, if nothing else, but that’s a step in the right direction.

“Thanks, Sicheng,” Chanyeol musters up a smile. “I needed that. Really, really needed that. I’m glad you still put up with me and my bullshit; thank you for that.”

_I’m not the one you should be thanking_. “Someone told me I’ve got to be patient with you.”

Chanyeol wipes his face with his sleeve. “Wise man,” he concurs.

Obviously it’s much easier to listen to advice than actually taking it and acting it out, but Sicheng doesn’t feel too worried. Chanyeol, is, after all, still a good person who wants the best for others. He’s misguided, but that can be worked on.

Before he can change his mind, Sicheng says, “I’ll watch over Jisung on Friday.”

“Oh no, you really don’t have to,” Chanyeol insists. “You’ve already done enough for me, Sicheng—I know you don’t really like kids, so I don’t want to force you into babysitting. I’m sure I can find a last minute sitter.”

Sicheng grits his teeth. “Yeah, I don’t like kids that much,” he admits. “But Yuta does, so I’ll bring him as backup. Stay focused during the meeting and don’t worry about us too much—we’re not Ten and Seungwan; we won’t burn your apartment down.”

Chanyeol manages a chuckle. “I’m sure you won’t,” he agrees. “And I bet you’re tired of hearing this from me, but thank you again, Sicheng. You’ve helped me more than you could imagine.”

_Yeah, because it was getting pretty depressing seeing you like that._ “That’s what I’m here for,” he salutes loftily. “Anyway, what’s your address? Yuta and I can drive over whenever you need us.”

“Oh?” Chanyeol lifts a brow in surprise. “But I’m just a couple floors above you, you don’t have to worry about driving.”

_Hah?_

“Come again?” Sicheng blinks. “We live in the same building? Since when?”

Chanyeol tilts his head in confusion. “Uhh, since you moved to Seoul?” He points out slowly. “I have a list of each team members’ contact information and addresses for emergencies. Here,” he digs through his desk until he pulls out a yellow slip of paper. “See for yourself. This is your address, right? Unless you’ve moved recently?”

Still skeptical, Sicheng takes the paper and inspects it. Sure enough, he and Chanyeol do have the same apartment complex listed under their names. But since when did Chanyeol live two floors above him? Wouldn’t they have run into each other at some point over the past two and a half years? How has he been oblivious to this fact for so long?

He’s about to admit that maybe they are neighbors and that he’s just been embarrassingly unobservant this whole time, but then he sees the address listed under Yuta’s name and suddenly, it all makes sense. 

“Oh, I got mixed up because I thought you were saying you live in the same building as Yuta. That’s probably why we haven’t run into each other before. I thought—”

_Wait. Hold up._

“Oh my god,” Sicheng freezes, the blood draining from his face so rapidly he needs to grab the wall for support. “Holy shit, _my apartment_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Sooyoung's wedding goes to hell


	4. Sooyoung's wedding goes to hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the crackiest thing I've ever written and honestly it's probably a mess but I tried okay.

“Is he asleep?” Yuta asks in a hushed whisper, moving aside to make space for Sicheng on the couch.

“Mmm,” Sicheng nods tiredly in response. He all but collapses next to his boyfriend, dropping his head on Yuta’s chest and closing his eyes. “Thank god he’s well-behaved—I would've screamed if he asked me to read him a bedtime story.”

Yuta snorts. “And then you would’ve done it anyway because you’re secretly soft like that.”

“False; I still hate children,” Sicheng grouses.

Overall, the evening had gone smoothly. After work, Sicheng and Yuta drove over to Chanyeol’s place with Jisung safely strapped in a car seat—they’d spent about forty minutes trying to figure out how to install the damn thing because Chanyeol only had time to give it to them before rushing off to change his suit—and although still reserved and silent at first, it didn’t take long for Jisung to warm up to them. They still weren’t on Lucas's level yet, but Jisung seemed somewhat familiar with Sicheng after seeing him in Chanyeol's private office every day and quickly fell victim to Yuta’s perfect smile and incessant cooing.

“You’re like a fu—effing magnet,” Sicheng had remarked, eyeing the way Jisung kept padding after Yuta in the kitchen like a puppy despite being told to sit still in the living room. “Seriously, how do you it?”

“It’s called charm, Winko. And sorry, it can’t be taught,” Yuta stuck his tongue out with the greasiest wink ever.

Sicheng rolled his eyes. “That’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever said and I’m breaking up with you this instant,” he declared flatly.

In response, Yuta pulled him in for a one-armed hug and planted an obnoxiously loud kiss on the side of his head. “There, am I forgiven now?” He simpered, batting his eyelashes for good measure and somehow managing to look both coy and stupid at the same time.

“No,” Sicheng glowered, making sure to jab his annoyingly (perfect) irritating boyfriend in the ribs as he stalked back to the living room.

Jisung’s a good kid, though. As distant a father Chanyeol may be, he must have done something right to raise such a well-behaved, polite two year old. After Sicheng finally managed to pry the toddler away from the kitchen—“I’d rather not have to tell Chanyeol-hyung that I accidentally stabbed his son,” Yuta, who's a B-list chef at best, reasoned—he found himself alone with Jisung for the first time. Much like in the office, Jisung still doesn’t speak much and prefers to watch his caretakers with those observant eyes. For what felt like an eternity—except realistically it was probably only around half an hour before dinner was ready—Sicheng awkwardly rocked back and forth on Chanyeol’s incredibly plush sofa, trying not to shrink back from Jisung’s analytical gaze and occasionally patting the child on the head every now and then.

“There, there,” he’d supplied meekly. “Dinner’s coming in just a little bit.”

Jisung didn’t say anything, choosing to sink against the back of the sofa and kick his little feet in the air.

When Lucas heard Sicheng was babysitting, he’d eagerly offered up all his advice. “Mochisung is a super neat eater—like, he doesn’t throw food or get it all over his face or anything—but you still have to spoon feed him! And if he just stares at you that doesn’t mean he hates you, he’s just a little shy! Oh, and he can’t really talk in full sentences yet but it’s not hard to piece together his words,” Lucas had babbled on and on about the intricacies of taking care of Park Jisung all during Sicheng’s usually peaceful lunch break, then also demanded to be sent some pictures while he was on his outing with Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin.

So during dinner, Sicheng had subtly snapped a picture of Yuta holding a spoonful of carrots up to Jisung’s mouth and sent it to his private chat with Lucas, who proceeded to excitedly gush over it for the next ten minutes, spamming Sicheng’s phone with messages every few seconds and only stopping once Sicheng threatened to block him.

Chanyeol made a point of Jisung going to bed no later than seven-thirty, so after eating they’d played with Jisung for a bit before getting him ready for bed. On his way to Jisung’s bedroom to make sure everything was set, Sicheng caught a glimpse of Yuta giggling as he helped the sleepy toddler brush his teeth. He’d paused for just a moment before swallowing, shoving whatever feeling was hitting his chest into the filing cabinet, and continuing on his way.

And now here they are, curled up on their boss’s sofa with the TV quietly playing in the background, finally having a moment of peace to themselves.

“So,” Yuta remarks, absentmindedly stroking Sicheng's hair. “How’s it feel to be back here, hmm?”

Sicheng lets out a pained groan. “Don’t mock me,” he whines. “It’s not my fault I forgot, okay?”

Yuta shoots him a pointed look. “It’s definitely your fault,” he deadpans.

_No, it’s yours._ “Shut up.”

(Immediately after his jaw-dropping realization, Sicheng had rushed down to the parking garage to confront Yuta. “Did you know that I still have my apartment?” He’d demanded.

Yuta, who’d been coolly leaning against the hood of the car, only briefly flickered his gaze away from his phone. “Oh, right. It’s been what, five months since we last went there?”

“ _Seven fucking months!_ ”

As it just so happened to turn out, because Sicheng had basically moved all his clothes to Yuta’s place _and_ had his rent on automated payment _and_ didn’t check his bills that closely _and_ was a major idiot, he’d completely forgotten about the place he was supposed to be living in. So, yeah, it’s definitely his own fault, but he’d like to blame Yuta for ever agreeing to date him in the first place for this severe oversight.)

“You sure you don’t want to check it out now? Pop down and see what’s become of the place?” Yuta teases, clearly enjoying every second of Sicheng’s embarrassed suffering.

“Ugh, I’ll pass,” he wrinkles his nose. “I’m already planning on going tomorrow, anyway. Probably need a HAZMAT suit or something before setting foot inside—I don’t even want to think about how dusty that place must be.”

Yuta shudders sympathetically. “I’d totally help out, except Sana pestered me into attending this JSA get-together tomorrow. Sunday could work though, if you wanted to wait another day?”

“No, it’s okay,” Sicheng insists with a sigh. Grimacing, he adds, “I have someone else I can force into helping. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“That sounds rather ominous, but okay then,” Yuta laughs, wisely choosing not to question his somewhat murderous partner.

“Although…” he hesitates, then quietly—almost _shyly_ —says, “Can I ask you something, Sichengie?”

Sicheng blinks in surprise. Warily, he responds with a highly intelligent, “Uh, yeah. Sure, go ahead. What’s up?”

Something about the way Yuta’s staring at him causes his stomach to curl in apprehension. Save for the whole Yukkuri incident, their relationship has never been particularly dramatic. Sure they argue like every couple, but it's never over anything too serious and for the most part everything is _easy_ —exactly how Sicheng wants it to be. Exactly how it _should_ be.

So why does Yuta, who’s arguably the more relaxed of the two, currently look like he’s stuck in between a rock and a hard place with no way out?

“Have you,” Yuta starts, only to shake his head, clear his throat, and try again. “I mean, I know you just remembered your apartment a couple days ago, but have you considered maybe…moving out?”

Dread creeps up his spine. “Um,” Sicheng replies blankly. “My lease doesn’t end for another two months.”

Yuta drags a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, I know,” he acknowledges with an awkward nod. Sicheng wants nothing more than to die right here and now, because even hell would be so much better than whatever tension is suffocating them.

_ Please don't do what I think you're about to do. Please, goddammit. _

“I just thought that maybe once your lease ends, you don’t have to resign and instead you could just live with me…officially.”

_Oh._

Sicheng opens his mouth, but his throat closes up and his tongue feels like lead as he can do nothing but gape at Yuta with wide, alarmed eyes.

_It’s too soon. Let’s do it. Maybe we should think about this some more? I basically already live with you as it is so might as well. Why are you even bringing this up? About damn time. How could you do this to me? Yes. No._

_I don’t know._

Sensing his boyfriend’s panic, Yuta quickly clasps a hand down on his shoulder. “No pressure!” He insists in a suspiciously high-pitched voice. Eyes darting all over the place, Yuta coughs and mutters, “It’s just a thought, that’s all. Don’t worry too much about it. I mean, I definitely want you to think about it because it would mean a lot to me, but again if you’re not comfortable then don’t stress and forget I ever said anything. Just—just—just—”

Something cold touches Sicheng’s ankle. With a startled screech, he reflexively jerks his leg out and bangs his shin against the coffee table so hard he sees stars. 

“Ow, shit!” He curses, clutching his wounded leg in despair. “Fucking hell—I’m gonna fucking die!”

“Sicheng!” Yuta yelps in alarm, immediately dropping to his knees so he can roll up Sicheng’s slacks. “Crap, you’re bleeding,” he frets, nervously inspecting the damage on his boyfriend’s shin. “Just sit here—I’ll go find a first aid kit or something.”

As Yuta dashes off to the kitchen, Sicheng mutters another string of curses under his breath as he miserably rocks back and forth with his leg clutched to his chest. _Fuck my life. Fuck it all. Fuck Yuta for scaring me like that. Fuck whatever touched me and nearly killed me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

The sound of a quiet grunt coming from his side breaks him out of his depressing thoughts. Leg still throbbing, Sicheng glances over to find a pajama-clad, messy-haired Park Jisung attempting to hoist himself onto the sofa with a determined pout on his little face.

_Oh for fuck’s sake._ “So it was you, huh?” Sicheng lets out a beleaguered sigh. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he bends over to place his hands under Jisung’s arms and lift him up. “What are you doing out of bed, huh? Why are you scaring the shit out of me like that?” He murmurs, frowning at the toddler with as much strictness as he can muster in his injured and undignified condition.

The culprit just shrugs and climbs onto his victim’s lap. “Dark,” he yawns as he rests his head against Sicheng’s stomach and peacefully closes his eyes. “Too scary.”

_Devil-child Park Jisung is afraid of the dark? Who would've fucking guessed._ “You still can’t sneak up on people like that,” Sicheng chides, clumsily rubbing the toddler on the back. "Could've given me a heart attack, kid, and then your dad would have to find a new secretary to deal with his bullshit."

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles without a trace of shame.

Having a sleepy child on his lap isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world—he can’t move an inch lest he dare jostle Jisung out of position and risk the toddler’s wrath—and his shin still hurts like hell and he is, after all, awkward with kids. But Sicheng would be lying if he said having a child trust him this much didn’t make him feel just the slightest bit happy. Especially Jisung of all people—a child who craves warmth and attention but isn’t particularly good at expressing it and chooses to hide behind a piercing gaze.

Suddenly, he remembers something very important. With a nervous laugh, Sicheng pats Jisung on the back and urgently says, “Hey kid, don’t tell your Dad I said some bad words, okay? I’ll get in trouble.”

Jisung yawns again, burying his face into Sicheng’s shirt. “Daddy says all the time,” he respond ever so wisely.

“Of course he does,” Sicheng mutters. “Of fucking course.”

_Park Chanyeol to Dong Sicheng_

_Park Chanyeol: Hey! Hope you got home safely and thanks again for watching Jisung!_

_Dong Sicheng: Oh, it’s no problem. He’s a good kid._

_Park Chanyeol: Hahaha yeah. He woke up a little after you left and asked when he could see his Uncle Win and Uncle Yu again. Safe to say he’s really taken a liking to the two of you._

_Dong Sicheng: That’s nice of him. I’m down to watch him if you need us to again._

_Park Chanyeol: Really??? You are???_

_Dong Sicheng: Like I said, he’s a good kid. Although I’d prefer to be the second choice after Lucas._

_Park Chanyeol: Noted. I’ll leave you be for now though since Jisung just woke up again and I bet you and Yuta want some time to yourselves. Have a good rest of your night._

_Dong Sicheng: Yeah, you too._

“Hey,” Yuta murmurs later when they’re getting ready for bed. He keeps his gaze focused on his slipper-clad feed as he says, “About what I said earlier…”

Sicheng freezes, hands stilled in midair from where they were in the middle of removing his tie. “What about it?” He asks, a slight tremor shaking his even tone. _Don't do this to me, please. I'm begging you._

It takes another beat of silence for Yuta to finally respond. Head still bowed, he mumbles, “It was just an idea. Don’t worry too much or feel like I’m trying to make you do anything. I…I just want you to feel comfortable, okay?”

The words are meant to be reassuring and when Yuta lifts his head his smile is small yet genuine and understanding like it always is—so why does Sicheng feel like an ice-cold hand is squeezing every last drop of blood out of his heart, threatening to split open his chest from the inside out?

He can’t even find the strength to lift the corners of his lips. “I’ll think about it,” he replies shortly, purposefully averting his gaze. “Give me some time.”

Another thought goes into the filing cabinet.

_Dong Sicheng to Ten_

_Dong Sicheng: Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be free tomorrow, would you?_

_Ten: Depends on what you need me for._

_Dong Sicheng: Um I need help cleaning my apartment because I haven’t been there for over seven months now?_

_Ten: Bold of you to assume I’d give up my precious Johnny time to help an ungrateful tsundere like you clean some dusty ass apartment._

_Dong Sicheng: I’ll buy you lunch AND dinner_

_Ten: …_

_Ten: I’m sure Johnny will understand_

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Just a disclaimer, but if I die you’ll be number one on my haunting list,” he declares, poking the stiff, unused doorknob with thinly veiled disdain.

“Duly noted,” Sicheng grimaces, voice muffled behind his black mouth mask. He shoulders his large backpack filled to the brim with disinfectant wipes and slips on a pair of latex gloves, mentally steeling himself for what's to come. “And if we both die?”

“Then I’ll murder you again in the afterlife.”

Honestly, that’s pretty fair. With a reluctant sigh, Sicheng grips the doorknob and twists with all his might, cringing when he hears just how squeaky the hinges have gotten as the door creaks open at a very slow and ominous pace.

“Please tell me you don’t have any ghosts,” Ten grumbles, closing his eyes and muttering a quick prayer in Thai.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Sicheng replies helpfully, shooting his own mental prayer in Mandarin. He doesn’t exactly believe in ghosts, per se, but one can never be too careful. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if some monster made his apartment into its nest during his extended absence.

“I will fucking kill you.”

Laughing, Sicheng fumbles around the wall for the light switch. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. I mean, other than a little dust I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.” _I'm about to eat my words, aren't I?_

When he finally flips the switch and the apartment lights up, however, he realizes that he’d spoken too soon. Far, far, too soon.

Ten shoots him a dirty glare that looks even more intimidating when the lower half of his face is obscured by a mask. “‘A little dust’,” he mocks in a terrible impersonation of Sicheng’s voice that makes him sound like he's on helium. “‘It’s perfectly safe’— _yeah fucking right_!”

“Okay,” Sicheng concedes sheepishly, tentatively poking a gloved finger at the thick coating of dust on the inner doorknob. A sickened feeling wrenches his gut when a huge clump of gray attaches itself to the latex of his glove, because the last time he checked that's not exactly possible. “So maybe it’s more than just a little. Sue me.”

“You bet I will,” Ten glowers, stomping into the apartment while brandishing an entire canister of cleaning wipes like a sword. “Can’t believe I’m about to die of dust inhalation for you of all people,” he grouses. 

Sicheng’s apartment is, to sugarcoat it, not exactly pretty. To put it bluntly? It’s a dusty grey hellhole straight out of a nightmare, and the best decision would be to run for their lives. But, because that is not the wise decision and they are _incredibly mature and responsible adults_ , they reluctantly put themselves to work.

For the next few hours, Ten wipes the inches thick layers of dust off every surface—the kitchen counter, dining table, chairs, coffee table, lamps, TV, just _everything_ —while Sicheng drags a mop across the floor. Other than the basic furniture necessities, his apartment is completely barren and devoid of anything remotely personal. He never set up any picture frames save for one of him with Kun, Yangyang, Dejun, and Guanheng that he brought with him to Yuta’s apartment, and the only item in the closet is an ugly Christmas sweater Kun mailed him as a gag gift that he’d thrown in without any intentions of ever wearing. There aren’t even any toiletries in the bathroom because he’s long since transferred them to his unofficial home, and when he turns on the sink the water violently spurts out with a questionable brownish tint.

Once he's done, Ten flops down on the couch with a loud sigh--only to immediately jump up in revulsion when a cloud of dust rises from the cushions. “Seriously, Sicheng?” He whines, twisting to examine the back of his jeans and shirt. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong day to wear dark colors. Fuming, he snaps, “I’m sending you the laundry bill!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sicheng stifles a laugh as he quickly hurries over and tries to brush the dust off the back of Ten’s black shirt. “I’m a peasant who can’t afford leather cushions; feel free to kill me or whatever.”

“You'd better watch your back,” Ten sniffs, dramatically stalking over to the table where their takeout awaits them. As he pries off the lid of a rice container, he remarks, “Although seriously though, what’s the point of keeping this place?”

The filing cabinet remains firmly locked. “Why not?” Sicheng lifts and lowers a shoulder as casually as possible, forcing away the uneasy feeling in his chest. “The lease doesn’t end for another couple of months so there’s no point in breaking contract now.”

Ten rolls his eyes as he shoves a spoonful of rice and beef into his mouth. “Come on, you know that’s not what I meant,” he accuses. “What’s the point of paying for an apartment you don’t even stay in because you’ve already basically moved in with your boyfriend? That doesn’t make any practical or financial sense.”

_Of course it doesn’t._ “It’s fine,” Sicheng insists, not sure whom he's trying to convince at this point. “I mean, it’s nice to keep this place as backup.”

“Backup?” Ten echoes, quirking a brow in suspicion. “Sicheng, that sounds like you think something bad will happen. What’s going on?”

_Nothing, and that’s the problem_. “Well, you never know. Anything can happen.”

Ten narrows his eyes. The way he chews his food is more menacing than it should be, causing Sicheng to squirm in place. Ten may be ridiculously oblivious when it comes to matters involving himself, but he sure as hell isn’t stupid. Plus he’s close to Yuta, so it really doesn’t Sicheng at all when Ten swallows, points an accusing finger at him, and proclaims, “He asked if you wanted to move in, didn’t he?”

Guiltily, Sicheng nods.

“And you freaked ‘cause you’re a commitaphobe?”

Another shameful nod.

“Wow,” Ten deadpans, one hundred percent unimpressed. “You’re just as dumb as I am. Congrats on this milestone, Sicheng.”

“Why wouldn’t I freak out?” Sicheng argues, defensively crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s too soon and too fast—he just hit me with that out of nowhere! How am I supposed to respond?”

Ten rolls his eyes so hard he ends up wincing and pressing his fingers to his forehead. “Come on—you’ve been together for two years and basically already live with each other as it is,” he points out, speaking slowly and patronizingly as if to a child. “Sicheng, if you’ve gotten so used to being with him that you completely forgot about your own apartment, don’t you think that that says more than enough?”

“Besides,” he adds as an afterthought. “It’s not about how long you’ve been together; it’s about maturity and readiness. Hell, I’ve got friends who moved in with their partners after less than a year and they’re still together. I bet Yuta’s more than ready, so what’s holding you back?”

_Who gave you the right to be the voice of reason? Go back to moping over Johnny._

Deep down though, he knows Ten’s right. Realistically there’s no reason for him to freak out so much. He loves Yuta, Yuta loves him, and living together is nice. Sicheng likes waking up in the morning to an arm thrown over him and a warm body curled next to his. He likes it when Yuta cooks for him and shows him new animations and dries his hair after they shower together. He likes driving to work with his left hand on twelve and his right holding Yuta's and going out for meals after a hectic day at the office and just having someone to smile at whenever he needs to unwind. Living with Yuta has easily been one of the best decisions he’s ever made and gifted him the best two years of his life; giving up this forgotten apartment would only make sense.

But at the same time, there’s that little voice in his head reminding him that if he doesn’t re-sign the lease, then that’s it; there’s no where to fall back to. It won’t just be Yuta’s place anymore, but both of theirs. What happens if things don’t work out? If an argument goes too far or they grow tired of each other? Where would Sicheng go next?

Their current arrangement feels like a nice dream; taking their relationship up a step would only jolt him back to reality. And when things get real, that’s when they get messy.

Ten’s got his head tilted to the side, expectantly waiting for an answer. Absently, Sicheng picks up a random takeout container and starts poking at its contents, barely tasting whatever food he’s putting into his mouth. “I love him,” he confesses quietly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Ten so the latter knows the statement is genuine. “A lot, actually. But I don’t know if this is something I’m ready for.”

_Because what we have is already enough for me; why would he want to change that?_

_Because he loves you, you fool._

Judging by the skeptical grimace on his lips, Ten doesn’t seem all that convinced. But he sighs and lets it go, reluctantly says, “Well, I trust the two of you can figure this out. If you don’t communicate well with him or hurt him though, be warned that I _will_ kick your ass.”

Sicheng manages to crack a smile. “What, like you’re suddenly a master at communicating now?” He jests playfully. _Filing cabinet: locked and secure. Now walk away._ “Sooyoung nearly ripped her hair out every time you and Johnny were being stupid—which was basically every day, let me remind you.”

Ten huffs. “Not my fault Johnny was playing hard to get!”

“He literally drooled over your ass all the time. Don’t see why though, considering you’ve barely got one.”

“And you do?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, right back at ya!”

Deciding to let Ten have the last word in a rather meaningless argument, Sicheng fondly rolls his eyes and plops down on the seat across from Ten. “How is Johnny-hyung doing these days, anyway? Sorry for dragging you away from him—I know he stays with you during the weekends.”

Like magic, Ten’s face lights up and he leans forward like an excited puppy. Sicheng can practically see a pair of ears and a tail wagging happily as Ten gushes, “He’s great! His Incheon team is actually pretty weird too so he likes to say that we were a vacation from his normal chaos. One of the accountants there openly vapes at his desk, which I didn’t believe until Johnny actually sent me a picture. We’re thinking that maybe I’ll take the train down one of these days and hang out with him and his Incheon friends instead, but that probably won’t be for another month or so.”

“Oh?” Sicheng hums in interest. “Why wait so long? It’s literally what, an hour long ride? Even less?”

Ten nods. “Yeah, but these next few weekends are already fully booked. We’ve got to go to two different weddings and one weekend Johnny has a workshop with his team.”

Ah, that’s right. One of those two weddings is Sooyoung’s, and Sicheng’s assuming the second is for Ten’s best friend--Taeyong, was that his name? Sicheng’s only met him twice when Ten brings him as a guest to the Christmas parties, but he vaguely remembers feeling shaken by simply being the presence of the ethereal man. He also recalls Taeyong’s departure—to Jeonju, was it?—as a major contributor to Ten’s angsty phase, but thankfully it looks like the best friends have gotten everything figured out.

“I’m glad it’s working out for you,” Sicheng smiles. _I’m happy for you, really._ “After everything you’ve put us through, that is. We all had to suffer so much—especially Sooyoung.”

Sheepishly, Ten scratches the back of his head and pokes his tongue out. “Well to be fair, I was a lot younger and dumber back then. I’m a changed man now, though.”

Sicheng snorts. “‘Back then’? That was literally what, less than a year ago? Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!” Ten insists earnestly. He crooks a finger, signaling Sicheng to lean forward. With mischievous eyes, Ten whispers, “Pro tip: If you ever need someone to knock some sense into you real fast, I’d suggest Jongdae-hyung or Baekhyun-hyung. Different approaches, but equally effective.”

_Baekhyun?_ “Since when have you ever talked to Baekhyun-hyung?” Sicheng raises a brow. Everyone knows Ten is Jongdae’s favorite despite the crass words the assistant manager throws at him, but Baekhyun hardly ever interacted with any of the younger team members. As far as Sicheng was aware, he was the only one Baekhyun ever spent any time with and that was because of the secretary situation.

Ten sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. A long and very complicated story,” he muses. “I guess…we both helped each other get through some difficult times. It’s not really my place to share what’s been going on with him, but I think he’s a lot happier now than he was before.”

_Happiness, huh?_ Deciding that it's best not to pry, Sicheng just nods and says, "Good for him, then. He seemed like he needed a change." _And some time away from Chanyeol._

He wonders if Baekhyun's doing okay now that he's back in school, if he's found whatever he's looking for and if one day, he'll find a definite conclusion to his relationship with Chanyeol. If he'll be able to hold on to the happiness he found. If Sicheng himself can do the same.

The filing cabinet shakes, so he quickly changes the topic to the latest bet--one regarding how long it will take poor unfunny Jeno to win over Jisung--and loses himself in Ten's rambling.

On Monday morning, Sicheng and Yuta stroll into the office hand in hand as per usual ever since they’ve gone public. Also as per usual, they run into a squabbling Ten and Seungwan in the lobby and exchange greetings, then get into the elevator together. Seungwan continues throwing fruit-related threats at a sassy Ten, who jeers at her for her height despite not having much himself. Yuta chimes in every now and then with a remark to egg them on because he’s a shit-stirrer like that. Still, his cute little smile whenever he succeeds is more than enough to convince Sicheng to let him have his way.

“One of these days you’re going to start World War Three,” Sicheng mutters, bumping Yuta’s shoulder with his as they trail after the dynamic idiot duo. 

Yuta jostles him back. “And you’d still love me anyway.”

_Of course I would_. “Keep dreaming, hyung,” he rolls his eyes.

In the midst of spouting some taunt about Seungwan’s lack of forehead exposure, Ten briefly glances back and makes eye contact with him. Pointedly, Sicheng looks away and squeezes Yuta’s hand.

Yuta hasn’t brought up the whole moving in together issue since Friday night, which Sicheng couldn’t be happier about. He knows that one day, one of them will break and they’ll end up talking about it, but hopefully that day is far in the distant future. What they already have works; it’s good enough. It’s _fine._

The rest of the morning is fairly standard as well. Sicheng ducks into Chanyeol’s office to hear the latest updates and quickly says hi to Jisung, who perks up and exclaims, “Uncle Win!” The temptation to stop and play with the child is strong, but unfortunately duty calls and Sicheng reluctantly has to part ways. He’s barely sat down in his chair when Lucas shouts for help. After showing his protégé how to pronounce and the meaning of a few tricky phrases, Sicheng makes a quick stop by Yuta’s desk to check what time the latter goes on lunch break. Sadly, today is one of the unlucky days where Yuta and the other sales team members have to go to a meeting, so Sicheng decides to seek out his favorite (read: only) customer relations workers instead.

From that point on, the day takes a drastic turn, and it’s all thanks to one person. Because if there’s one thing Sicheng’s learned over the past couple of years, it’s this:

Park Sooyoung is a goddamn menace.

The incident where she exploded at Ten for underestimating her involvement in the grand orchestration of getting him and Johnny together is tame in comparison to some of the other things Sicheng’s witnessed. About seventy-five percent of the time the trio goes out for a meal or drinks, some random man will come up and start hitting on Sooyoung. If she’s in a good mood she’ll simply flash the diamond on her left ring finger, but if she’s had a bad day or is in a particularly vindictive mood, she’ll bare her teeth in a fake smile and spit out a remark so scathing Sicheng almost ends up feeling bad for the men. Almost.

(“I mean, I know I’m hot but the least guys can do these days is check for a ring. That's just basic decency,” Sooyoung scoffed the last time she’d successfully shooed a persistent admirer away.

“You’d think they’d assume you were already taken because you’re with both of us, too,” Taeil mused thoughtfully as he sipped at his soda—as a notorious lightweight, he didn’t even bother drinking any more than a few sips of beer.

Sicheng shrugged. “Because it’s glaringly obvious that we’re both below her league,” he dryly pointed out.

“Damn straight,” Sooyoung smirked.)

The point is, Sooyoung never holds back. She’s blunt to a fault and doesn’t hesitate to knock some sense into the brains of the idiots she hangs out with. Sicheng admires her for that, because he knows that he himself has a problem with being one hundred percent honest all the time (what an understatement).

Another thing about Sooyoung is that, while she doesn’t quite wear her heart on her sleeve, she doesn’t bother hiding her emotions. When she’s happy she’s all smiles and teasing remarks, but when she’s going through a rough time the dark scowl on her face is enough to drive the most tenacious of people away. And when she’s stressed, she resorts to immersing herself in work and becoming dead to the world.

Case in point; now. After learning of Yuta’s prior commitment, Sicheng had wandered over to customer relations to ask his friends if they wanted to get food with him when he saw Sooyoung hunched over her desk, fingers flying across her keyboard at a breakneck speed and teeth viciously gnawing at her bottom lip. _Ah,_ he thinks wryly. _So it’s that kind of day._

It makes sense, though. Her wedding _is_ in a mere five days, after all.

Taeil notices Sicheng first. With a sympathetic smile, he explains, “She’s been like this all day. Something about bridesmaid trouble.”

“Oh?” Sicheng lifts a brow, observing the way Sooyoung’s scowl deepens. “What happened? Did someone back out?”

Sooyoung doesn’t even pause. “ _Two_ people backed out,” she mutters through gritted teeth. “One of them has a shitty boss who scheduled for her to be out of town and the other has to fly abroad to take care of her sick grandma. Not that I can blame either of them because of course those issues are way more pressing than my wedding, but goddammit I did _not_ need this extra stress of finding replacements.”

“Why do you need to replace them?” Taeil wonders curiously. “You’ll still have other bridesmaids, right? So what if you’re down a few?”

_That_ was not the right thing to say. Sooyoung stops working just long enough to shoot him an angry glare and exclaim, “Because do you know how stupid I’d look with two fewer bridesmaids than Sungjae’s groomsmen? It’ll look like I have no friends, plus I hate when things are asymmetrical!”

Now that she’s on a roll, Sooyoung shows no sign of stopping. The tension in her voice escalates with each word as she furiously jabs at her keyboard. “I need to find two people who are willing to fill in, get them fitted for dresses, teach them how to ballroom dance, redo all the dance partners—it’s just too much to handle in only five days! There’s still so much other stuff I have to figure out—I need to try my dress on again, too!—that, on top of work, I don’t know if I’ll have the time or energy to sort all this bullshit out.”

Sicheng would place a hand on her shoulder to calm her down, but he has a feeling she’d just smack it off. “Why not ask someone from here? I’m sure Seungwan-noona and Sunyoung-noona would be willing to fill in,” he supplies helpfully.

“I would, except they’re already two of my bridesmaids anyway,” Sooyoung groans, dragging a manicured hand through her long hair. Under her breath, she miserably adds, “As lame as it may make me sound, I don’t have that many close female friends, okay?”

“Hey, don’t worry so much, Soo,” Taeil offers her a reassuring grin. “I know you’re busy enough as it is, but I guarantee everything will turn out fine and you’ll laugh about this once it's all over.”

“Yeah,” Sicheng agrees, nodding solemnly. Sooyoung may be a wreck when she’s stressed, but she’s a true perfectionist who always manages to find a way to get shit done. If she can’t handle this, no one can.

Still, she doesn’t seem quite convinced and it does sound like a rather stressful time, so in an effort to be supportive, he adds, “And in the meantime, if you ever need anything just ask us and we can help out. I don’t know how helpful we’ll be, but we’ll try our best.”

Suddenly, Sooyoung’s head snaps up. “Wait,” she gapes, eyes double their normal size as some sort of realization crosses her face. It's as if a switch has been flipped as she slowly leans forward and whispers, “ _Anything_ , huh?”

Internally, Sicheng grimaces _. This can’t possibly be good_. And, judging by the apprehensive look on Taeil’s face, he’s thinking the same.

“Uh, yeah?” Taeil replies, sounding more like he's asking a question than providing an answer. “I mean, we’ll do whatever you ask if it makes your life easier. We’re your friends, of course we’ll help.”

For some reason, Sooyoung doesn’t look nearly as stressed or upset anymore. In fact, that slow smile spreading across her lips appears more predatory than anything, and that gleam in her eyes right now only ever shows up when she’s up to no good. Now if there’s a second thing Sicheng has learned during his time at the office, it’s that there is nothing scarier than a devious, scheming Park Sooyoung.

_Code red. Red fucking alert, sound the goddamn alarms. Abort mission, abort the fucking mission._

“Well then,” Sooyoung practically purrs, mouth curling up devilishly. “In that case, how do you boys feel about mint green?”

_Feeling that V_

_Huang Xuxi: [attachment]_

_Huang Xuxi: Look at this little mochiface TT_TT he’s too cute I just wanna squeeze him TT_TT_

_Xiao Dejun: Whoa, you have a kid? Aren’t you like, my age?_

_Qian Kun: Don’t be stupid, Dejun. He’s not old enough to have a kid._

_Qian Kun: Unless…_

_Huang Xuxi: HAHAHAHAHAHA you guys are funny :’D But no, our manager brings his kid in to work and I’m the unofficial office babysitter. I wish he were my kid though (*_*) I want a kid (*_*)_

_Qian Kun: That is a pretty cute kid. Is he the same one Sicheng babysat the other day?_

_Huang Xuxi: Yup! And he really likes Sicheng-ge, too!_

_Huang Guanheng: Did I hear that right_

_Huang Guanheng: A child likes Sicheng-ge? Really?!_

_Xiao Dejun: Impossible. Ge doesn’t know how to look after anyone under the age of eighteen._

_Huang Xuxi: Huh, really?! Because Mochisung’s been asking for him all morning :O_

_Liu Yangyang: Where is Sicheng-ge, anyway? Usually he responds right away because he’s a loser who’s always on his phone._

_Huang Guanheng: Dude, it’s the middle of a workday and we’re texting each other. I think we’re all losers who are always on our phones._

_Qian Kun: For once Guanheng is right. We are indeed all losers._

_Qian Kun changed the group name to “Chinese/Taiwanese/Hong Kongese/Macanese losers”_

_Liu Yangyang: Bit of a mouthful, don’t you think, ge?_

_Huang Xuxi: You forgot that I’m half Thai! This is discrimination!_

_Qian Kun: Hmph_

_Qian Kun changed the group name to “losers”_

_Xiao Dejun: Now that’s a bit too concise, isn’t it?_

_Qian Kun: I swear to fucking god_

_Qian Kun changed the group name to “Feeling that V”_

_Qian Kun: Is everyone satisfied now?_

_Huang Xuxi: Actually I’ve been wondering…why is that the group name in the first place?_

_Huang Guanheng: Well it’s a long story. It was Sicheng-ge’s idea originally, actually. I think the V is supposed to stand for “Vision”, but I don’t know why we’re supposed to be feeling it. Or how to feel a vision, now that I think of it._

_Xiao Dejun: Beats me. The rest of us just went along with it because we don't question Sicheng-ge._

_Huang Xuxi: :OOOOOO_

_Qian Kun: Back to Yangyang’s original point—where IS Sicheng today? I’m starting to feel a bit concerned._

_Xiao Dejun: Did he finally grow sick of us for real?_

_Huang Xuxi: Oh, I see him! He’s talking to his friends in customer relations!_

_Huang Xuxi: Looks a bit pale though. I wonder if he’s sick._

_Huang Xuxi: Hold on, he and one of his friends just collapsed on the floor !!!_

_Liu Yangyang: What? Is he okay? SICHENG-GE PLEASE DON’T DIE ON US JUST YET WE STILL NEED YOU_

_Huang Xuxi: He’s alive! Just got back up, but huh..._

_Qian Kun: Huh what?_

_Huang Xuxi: Now the three of them are arguing about something. I’m way too far away to hear clearly, but I think I just heard something about bridesmaid dresses?_

_Qian Kun: What on earth?_

_Huang Xuxi: Wait, they’re getting up now! Looks like they’re eating out today, but they won’t stop bickering!_

_Huang Xuxi: They just walked past my desk and I heard Sicheng-ge accuse one of his friends of exploiting their friendship. Then his other friend whined about green being an unflattering color on him? And now the first friend is telling them to stop being babies because they said they’d do anything to help her and this counts as anything?_

_Liu Yangyang: I’m lost._

_Qian Kun: Honestly, same._

_Huang Xuxi: JAUIEFHBAIOEBFALEIUBG_

_Xiao Dejun: What’s going on? Are you okay?!_

_Huang Xuxi: Whoops, false alarm! My boyfriend just spilled some watermelon juice on his shirt and his pout is the cutest thing ever TT_TT who gave him the right to be so cute (*_*)_

_Xiao Dejun: Boyfriend, huh…can’t relate_

_Huang Guanheng: None of us can._

_Liu Yangyang: The sad truth._

_Xiao Dejun: Maybe if we moved to Korea we could get boyfriends like Sicheng-ge and Xuxi_

_Qian Kun: Usually I’d discourage you from stupid shit like that but at the moment it seems to be the only way._

_Liu Yangyang: So who wants to book the tickets? I vote Kun-ge because he’s got the most money._

_Qian Kun: Beg pardon_

_Dong Sicheng: Do NOT move to another country just to find a man. You’re all better than that and it doesn’t even work like that._

_Liu Yangyang: Ge!!!!! You’re alive!!!!_

_Huang Xuxi: Are you okay? What were you talking about with Sooyoung-noona and Taeil-hyung?_

_Dong Sicheng: Oh yeah, that._

_Dong Sicheng: I’ve been dragged into filling in for one of Sooyoung’s bridesmaids._

_Huang Guanheng: Oh, that’s it? Are you mad because you think men can’t be bridesmaids? Because to that I say SCREW GENDER NORMS !!!!!!!_

_Xiao Dejun: FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY !!!!!!!_

_Liu Yangyang: AWAY WITH TOXIC MASCULINITY !!!!!!!!!_

_Huang Xuxi: IT’S THE 21ST CENTURY, MAN !!!!!!_

_Dong Sicheng: What_

_Dong Sicheng: Who said I was mad? It’s just a title so it doesn’t matter if I’m a bridesmaid or groomsmen or whatever. I couldn’t care less about gender norms right now._

_Qian Kun: So why did Xuxi say you were arguing with her?_

_Dong Sicheng: Ah, that. She was panicking and thought there wouldn’t be enough time to find clothes for us so she asked if we could wear the old bridesmaids’ dresses. Obviously we said no because those things wouldn’t fit us. We had to calm her down and convince her that we’ll find a way to get color-coordinated accessories for our tuxes and all that. And now we’ve been sucked in to going to a bridal boutique with her after work today because she’s insisting she needs our input on her final dress fitting. I didn’t want to go because Yuta and always go grocery shopping on Monday, but she insisted._

_Qian Kun: Ahhhh, I see. Well, have fun. I’m sure Yuta understands._

_Xiao Dejun: What kind of monsters go grocery shopping on Monday?_

_Xiao Dejun: Also cough cough whipped cough cough domestic cough cough_

_Huang Xuxi: ASNFAIWBFAELBFAWELKTBGAKLRT_

_Huang Xuxi: Oops, sorry for the interruption. Mark just tripped over thin air and it was TOO cute ^_^_

_White_.

That’s all Sicheng can think as he steps into the bridal boutique. So much whiteness everywhere from the glistening floor tiles to the furniture to the flower arrangements and of course to the endless racks of wedding dresses. It’s so white he feels blinded, as if a spring snowstorm blasted the shop.

“I can't see ,” Taeil hisses, rubbing at his eyes and blinking repeatedly. “Sicheng, why did we agree to this?”

“Because she would’ve dragged us here anyway,” Sicheng responds easily.

Taeil groans.

Sooyoung doesn’t seem affected at all as she marches over to the receptionist and cheerfully gives her name, gesturing to the men behind her as she explains the situation. The receptionist peers at the two of them a bit skeptically, but she nods and points to a door, allowing for them to pass.

Inside the next room, the whiteness is toned down considerably. This, Sicheng realizes, must be where all of Sooyoung’s stuff is kept, because he can see a rack of mint green dresses and other green accessories neatly stored away. The only white dress hangs on a mannequin while an elderly seamstress lightly tugs and prods at the fabric, no doubt making some last second adjustments. Over to the side sit three other women, talking and laughing with wine glasses hanging from their fingers and an open bottle on the small table.

“Oh, Sooyoung!” One of them calls out, setting her wine down and rushing over. Sicheng hasn’t met any of Sooyoung’s acquaintances other than Sungjae and his crew, but if he had to guess, this short woman with perfect facial features must be Joohyun, one of Sooyoung’s best female friends.

Joohyun grins as she links her arm through Sooyoung’s—a rather funny sight, considering the big height difference. “You’re late,” Joohyun chides in a motherly fashion, ushering her over to the mannequin. “How many times do I have to remind you about punctuality? And where’s Seungwan?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sooyoung laughs, allowing Joohyun to drag her without resistance. “But I had to bring these boys with me, so I blame them. And unnie couldn’t make it because she’s staying overtime tonight.”

“Excuse me,” Sicheng retorts indignantly. “You made me be the driver! I ditched my boyfriend for you!”

“Oh?” Joohyun blinks, peeking back at at the unfamiliar presences. “You must be Taeil-ssi and Sicheng-ssi, right? Sooyoung’s told us a lot about you.”

Taeil smiles uneasily. “Nothing good, I imagine?”

Joohyun laughs. “Don’t be silly—she loves you guys!”

“Shhhh,” Sooyoung whispers exaggeratedly. “That’s supposed to be a secret, unnie!”

“Oh, you actually managed to convince them?” A very familiar voice chimes in from the sitting area. “I’m impressed.”

Sicheng whirls around to find none other than Sunyoung seated on a plush chair, a warm smile adorning her lips as she waves at her former coworkers. “Been a while, hasn’t it?” She grins, motioning for them to come over. “How’s the team been since I left?”

Taeil shudders as he plops onto the seat next to her while Sicheng takes one next to an unfamiliar woman—definitely another one of the bridesmaids—with catlike eyes. “Too much young blood now,” he laments, shaking his head. “We could do with people like you and Baekhyun-hyung again.”

“You calling me old now, Taeil?” Sunyoung counters teasingly. She turns her attention to Sicheng and says, “How have the boys in sales been? I trust Ten and Yuta are nothing but good influences to little Jeno?”

Sunyoung hasn’t changed much since Sicheng last saw her a few months back, with the only difference being her considerably more pronounced midriff. She must be what, six, seven months now? Unlike Seulgi and Joohyun, her glass is filled with water and not wine, although he does catch her shooting envious glances at the bottle on the table every now and then.

“Sadly, Ten and Yuta are still, well, themselves,” Sicheng answers solemnly. “And Jeno really likes disappearing with Jaemin, so there’s that.”

“Classic,” Sunyoung shakes her head in equal parts disapproval and fondness. “Then I trust Jongdae’s still cussing everyone out, huh?”

Sicheng thinks back to how, earlier that day, he’d casually greeted Jongdae as they’d crossed paths in the bathroom. Jongdae had simply uttered, “Get fucked,” and left, then backtracked about ten seconds later and profusely apologized, citing the troublemaking trio as the source of his headache and bad mood.

“Jongdae-hyung is still Jongdae-hyung,” he smiles innocently.

Sunyoung scoffs. Clapping both men on their backs, she announces, “Well, get used to it, boys. Have fun being the old ones now. Soon you’ll be in your thirties and wondering how the twenty-something year olds have so much energy.”

“Um,” Taeil hesitantly raises his hand. “I’m literally turning thirty next month.”

The woman with catlike eyes giggles. “Join the club, buddy,” she smiles, holding a hand for Taeil and then Sicheng to shake. She introduces herself by saying, “I’m Seulgi, one of the bridesmaids. I’m assuming you two are Taeil and Sicheng?”

“How does everyone already know who we are?” Taeil wonders, exchanging a questioning glance with Sicheng, who just shrugs. 

“Because Sooyoung never shuts up about her favorite coworkers,” Joohyun remarks, sliding into the last available seat and picking her wineglass back up. “Don’t worry, we’ve already heard all about your misadventures,” she winks

Taeil just shakes his head. “That’s very reassuring,” he sighs. “Got any more glasses?”

Swiftly, Seulgi passes him an empty one. She offers one to Sicheng as well, but since he’s the driver, he politely declines.

“So how did you become friends with Sooyoung-noona?” He asks, partly in an attempt to make small talk and partly out of actual curiosity. Sooyoung doesn’t talk much about her other friends, but Seulgi and Joohyun’s names have come up a lot and they’re her bridesmaids so they must be very close to her.

Seulgi dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “College!” She explains brightly. “We were all on the girls’ dance team together! Joohyun-unnie’s actually much older than us—”

“I’m only thirty-three!” Joohyun exclaims, absolutely affronted.

“—but she took a couple years off before going to school so we overlapped for a bit. Even though we’re all from different years the three of us managed to keep in touch, and we’re actually still quite close to some of the other dance team members,” Seulgi finishes.

Something clicks in Sicheng’s brain. “You wouldn’t happen to know a Ten, would you?” He inquires curiously. Just in case, he adds, “Thai, short, has a super long real name, never skips leg day but could work on his arms some more, oblivious as hell, dumb but also pretty smart? That Ten?”

Joohyun straight up cackles. “Oh, do we know Ten? He and his best friend only gave the dance team headaches for four years.”

“Mmhmm,” Seulgi vigorously nods in agreement. “Both super talented dancers, though. Our school hadn’t seen a duo that powerful since the legendary Taemin and Jongin.”

“I heard he and Johnny Seo are finally dating now,” Joohyun muses, tapping her chin and grinning exasperatedly. “If that’s true, thank fucking god. It only took them what, ten years?”

“Awww,” Seulgi coos. “That’s cute. I’ll have to congratulate them when we see them.”

Sunyoung rolls her eyes. “It only took three different people to knock some sense into Ten for him to finally learn how to confront his feelings. My husband looked like he was about to pop a vein whenever Ten was being oblivious to Johnny’s obvious flirting," she comments dryly, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“You should have seen them in college! I’ve never witnessed more painful pining than whatever those two were doing!” Joohyun bemoans, facepalming at the mere memory of Ten and Johnny’s college selves’ bullshit (which, Sicheng can only imagine, must have been a lot if their adult selves’ bullshit is any indicator).

Seulgi turns to him. “How about you, Sicheng-ssi?” She pipes up with a curious expression. “Sooyoung tells us that you’ve got a boyfriend, right?”

_What hasn’t she told you at this point?_ “Yeah,” Sicheng nods, wishing he’d accepted that wineglass earlier because damn if he doesn’t feel awkward as hell right now. Meeting new people has never and will never be his thing, but it sure is easier after a few drinks. “He works with us, too. Been together two years now.”

“Oooh, two years,” she ahhs. “Hey, you might be in Sooyoung’s place soon!”

_Hahahahaha please don’t mention that when we’ve already hit a crisis point thanks to me._ Mustering up a weak smile, Sicheng says, “We’ll see about that.”

“What about you?” Joohyun asks Taeil. "Anyone special in your life?"

“Oh, no,” Taeil laughs, holding his hands up in front of him. “I’m as single as it gets, trust me. I already know I’m going to die forever alone and I’ve accepted it.”

Sunyoung loftily flicks him on the shoulder. “You know, Jongdae and I have plenty of connections. If you want us to we can definitely find you a nice man or woman,” she teases, suggestively lifting her eyebrows.

Taeil chuckles again, this time a bit more nervously than before. “Trust me, I’m all good. The single life is pretty nice, actually,” he insists, sheepishly flapping his hands in an effort to get Sunyoung off his case.

Sicheng opens his mouth to make a comment regarding Taeil’s recent behavior in which he sent Sicheng and Sooyoung a sarcastic, paragraphs long email expressing how sad it was that he was the only one in the friend group without a romantic partner and why that was damaging to his morale and psyche, but before he can utter a word the sound of high heels clacking across the floor capture everyone’s attention.

“So?” Sooyoung smiles nervously, doing a quick impromptu spin on the spot. “How do I look?”

The female bridesmaids rush over to inspect the bride-to-be while Sicheng remains rooted in place. He offers Sooyoung a thumbs up of approval—he may not have been interested in girls since like, the second grade, but he can tell when a wedding dress looks good, thank you very much—but isn’t really in the mood to provide anything more constructive. 

_Marriage..._

Straight to the filing cabinet.

“You good?” Taeil, who also stayed behind, checks, prodding him in the side. Concern lines his face as he adds, “You’ve been looking out of it for a while now.”

_No, my entire life is one existential crisis after another._ “All good,” Sicheng shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Just thinking about what I want for dinner.”

On the big day, Sicheng reluctantly drags himself out of Yuta’s cozy embrace at seven o’clock in the goddamn morning and forces himself into the shower, spending most of his time leaning against the wall in a half-asleep stupor. When he wipes the steam off the mirror, he immediately grimaces upon seeing the dark circles under his eyes. _I look like a fucking raccoon,_ he thinks dismally. _Soo’s gonna kill me._

Yuta has a makeup stash somewhere, but Sicheng’s too lazy to search for it. He’ll just have to settle for swiping some concealer from one of the other bridesmaids later. Groaning, he shuffles back into the bedroom and blindly paws around the closet for his tuxedo, resisting the urge to bang his forehead against the door because Sooyoung would get even more annoyed at him for having a bruise on such an inopportune location.

Behind him, he can hear the sound of Yuta stirring. “Winko?” Yuta mumbles, blearily rubbing at his eyes. “Why are you up? Come baaaaaack.”

_Cute._ “What are you, five?” Sicheng rolls his eyes in amusement. He tosses the towel he’d been using to dry his hair at the sleepy figure, jokes, “Sorry, but Park Sooyoung is my top priority right now.”

Yuta halfheartedly throws the towel back, falling short by quite a bit. “Always figured you’d leave me for a woman,” he yawns, pulling the covers over his head.

An uneasy chill runs down Sicheng’s spine. “Hyung,” he starts, only to find his tongue tied and throat choked up.

“Mmm?” Yuta grunts, voice muffled from beneath the duvet.

_Please don’t say things like that. Even if it’s just a joke I don’t want to think of one of us leaving the other. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Don't jinx us like that._

He schools a smile on his face despite Yuta not being able to see it. “Taeil-hyung’s picking me up, so that way you’ll have the car. I’ll see you later.”

“Gotcha. Love you.”

_Thank you._ “Love you, too.”

Because Sooyoung is Sooyoung, she chose some some remote outdoor venue three hours outside Seoul. Not too much of a hassle for the guests since the actual ceremony doesn’t start until late afternoon, but for the bridesmaids and groomsmen, who are required to arrive before noon? A fucking hassle, and despite how many thermoses of coffee Taeil promises to stockpile in his car, Sicheng doesn’t know if he’ll survive the day.

“I crave death,” is the first thing Taeil says to him in lieu of a proper greeting, similar black circles marring the skin below his eyes.

“What’s new?” Sicheng quips back, grumpily slamming the passenger door shut behind him. He gratefully accepts one of Taeil’s many thermoses and chugs the coffee like his life depends on it. Grumbles, “I could be sleeping in with my boyfriend but instead I’m here with you."

Taeil slaps his arm. “Wow, I’m so sorry I’m not some sexy Japanese dude,” he deadpans.

Sicheng quirks a brow. “Did you just call _my_ man sexy?”

“I mean, it’s the truth.”

_Damn right it is._ “Just drive,” he orders, hiding his smile behind the thermos.

Admittedly the drive isn’t all that bad. After a few more gulps of coffee, both men feel a lot more energized and actually have meaningful conversations that cover topics other than how tired they are and/or how much they want death. Taeil cranks the radio on to some poppy station and soulfully sings along to every song while Sicheng simply hums along and observes the scenery. 

By the time they arrive, Sicheng and Taeil are late compared to the other bridesmaids and groomsmen (they may have gotten distracted and made a few pit stops too many along the way but that's nobody else's business). All the tents and tables have already been set up and the large gazebo is almost done being decorated. There’s a small lodge over to the side where they presume Sooyoung to be, so they head there with their tux bags slung over their shoulders.

“About damn time!” Sunyoung chides when they walk in, already clad in her mint green dress and standing with one hand over her baby bump. As she whisks them away to some room, she scolds, “And why do you both look half dead right now? Your best friend is getting married!”

“She’s the reason why we’re dead,” Taeil utters, tone as dark as the shadows under his eyes.

“Change!” Sunyoung barks, shutting the door behind her as she dashes out.

Since Sooyoung didn’t recruit them until the last minute, Sicheng and Taeil unfortunately (or fortunately) do not have mint green suits. To make up for it, Sooyoung got them leftover mint green ties, handkerchiefs, and cufflinks from the groomsmen. She’d also suggested that they dye green highlights into their hair, but that option was vetoed almost instantly.

After changing, Seulgi and Joohyun snatch them to slap some concealer on their dark circles, then put them to work by ordering them to double check seating charts, flower arrangements, and keep an eye out for any general mayhem. 

“If you see a short man with a funny face running around in a centaur costume, don’t be scared,” Joohyun warns, dead serious.

Sicheng and Taeil exchange bewildered glances. "The fuck?" The former questions.

Seulgi giggles. “That’s Eunkwang-oppa, the best man. Don’t mind him—he’s very unique, but a lot of fun!”

“Who shows up to a wedding dressed as a centaur?” Taeil points out skeptically.

Seulgi and Joohyun just pat them on the backs and wish them luck.

For the next few hours, they run around like errand boys as they check up on every little thing. Sooyoung the perfectionist will not settle for any less and they’d prefer not to evoke her rage on such an important day, so if Sicheng has count how many flowers are in each vase he sure as hell will (although seriously; it’s a fucking hassle and he’d rather not).

After triple checking to make sure every wineglass is pristine, Sicheng wipes his brow and checks the time. The guests are due to start trickling in in about half an hour, and Yuta had already texted a while ago saying he was carpooling with some of their coworkers. Sungjae and his six groomsmen—and one of them is indeed dressed as a centaur—are talking to the band while Taeil vigorously polishes a stained fork and Seungwan refolds some haphazard napkins. But for the most part, everything is in order and all signs point to a smooth-sailing wedding. For the first time all day, Sicheng lets out a sigh and relaxes his shoulders.

Unfortunately, that relief lasts for about five seconds. Because the next thing he knows, Joohyun frantically runs into the tent and makes a beeline for the nearest table, lifting the tablecloth up to check underneath. Panic crosses her face as she runs to the next table and checks again, then repeats her actions with every table.

Frowning, Sicheng signals for Taeil to follow him as he makes his way over to the frazzled maid of honor. “Joohyun-noona? Are you okay?” He questions warily, eyeing the way she jumps when she realizes she’s been caught. 

“Oh, hey!” Joohyun exclaims loudly, too strained to be considered casual. With the way her eyes keep darting around the room and the chipped nail polish on her fingers, she looks considerably more bedraggled than the last time they saw her. 

Immediately, Sicheng’s suspicions raise. “Is there something wrong?” He demands, urgency lacing his tone. “Is it about Sooyoung?”

_Bingo_. Joohyun flinches, a nervous chuckle escaping her mouth. “Uh, let’s just say that there’s no need to panic right now, but we may just have a runaway bride,” she blurts out with a panicked gleam in her eyes.

“What?” Sicheng and Taeil yelp. The latter snatches Joohyun’s wrist before she can run away and whisper-shouts, “What do you mean, we’ve got a runaway bride? Did she actually ditch?”

Joohyun holds up her hands in defense. “Okay, so we were in the middle of doing her hair when she suddenly said she needed air. Sunyoung and I didn’t think too much of it, but half an hour passed and she still wasn’t back. At that point Seulgi started looking for her in the general area, but when she couldn’t find her we realized there’s a very high possibility that Sooyoung just ran away. And now we’re trying to find her but we’ve got no idea where she could be!”

The beginnings of a headache throb at Sicheng’s temples. _What have you done, Park Sooyoung?_ “Alright, let’s just stay calm,” he supplies as helpfully as he can. “There aren’t that many places to hide and it’s not like she would've driven away entirely, right?”

Taeil titters uneasily. “ _Right_ ,” he agrees entirely unconvincingly.

Joohyun drags a hand through her hair. “To make matters worse, the cake is missing, too,” she groans, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes.

_Wait._ Sicheng resists the temptation to facepalm as he grimly mutters, “I think I know who has it.”

_office idiots two point oh_

_Kim Jongdae: Sunyoung just texted saying there’s an emergency. What’s going on?_

_Son Seungwan: Which version of the truth do you want?_

_Kim Jongdae: Um, the true one?_

_Son Seungwan: We lost the bride._

_Ten: You WHAT now???!!!_

_Ten: With all due respect, how does that even happen?_

_Kim Doyoung: Ever heard of leaving someone at the altar?_

_Son Seungwan: FUCK YOU DOYOUNG THAT’S SO NOT HELPFUL RIGHT NOW_

_Son Seungwan: We’re looking for her but no one’s found her yet. Sungjae-ssi’s panicking because he thinks he did one too many Nick impressions and scared her off._

_Nakamoto Yuta: @Dong Sicheng any luck?_

_Dong Sicheng: Zero. Taeil-hyung and I are checking the parking lot to see if one of the cars is missing._

_Nakamoto Yuta: I’ll be there soon with some of the others, so we’ll help once we get there._

_Son Seungwan: Yes please do, we’re losing our minds right now._

_Dong Sicheng: Taeil-hyung thinks we should drive a bit further out to see if we can catch up to her. If she actually did run away, that is._

_Son Seungwan: Sounds good, keep us posted._

_Dong Sicheng: Gotcha_

_Dong Sicheng: Oh_

_Ten: Oh? Oh what?_

_Dong Sicheng: Call off the search. We found her._

“Why, hello boys,” Sooyoung greets, casually waving her fork in the air like this is some normal, everyday occurrence. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Taeil stares down at her in disapproval. “This is my car,” he deadpans.

“Duh, of course I know it’s your car. Why else would I choose to hide here?” She counters wisely, steadying the towering cake she’s somehow managed to balance on her lap.

“You’re eating cake that you smuggled from the caterers. In my car.”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns right now, hyung,” Sicheng coughs pointedly. Sooyoung’s in the middle seat, so he slips in on her left and shuts the door behind him. Reluctantly, Taeil gets in on her right, muttering something under his breath about no cake stains on his seats _or else_.

Sooyoung offers them two extra forks she’d conjured out of nowhere. “I figured you’d find me so I came prepared,” she explains between bites of cake.

“You do realize that because you’ve been eating the cake by yourself, the guests can’t have it now?” Sicheng gently reminds. Still, he’s not one to turn down free cake and, like he just said, it's not like the guests can have it anymore, so he too digs in.

“Oh,” she pauses to consider that, then shrugs. “Oh well. Guess that’s another reason to call the wedding off.”

Taeil reels back in horror. “Call it off? Why would you do that, Soo—why _are_ you doing this?” He demands anxiously.

Sooyoung shrugs again. Her hair is only half-styled, with large chunks having already fallen out of whatever complicated braid Joohyun had been in the middle of twisting. Some of the buttercream frosting has gotten onto the skirt of her wedding dress, just barely visible against the white fabric. “Dunno," she says, "I just don’t know if I’m ready, I guess.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know if you’re ready?” Sicheng demands, arching a brow in surprise. “You’ve been with Sungjae-ssi for what, eight years now? This wedding took over a year to finish planning, how are you not ready?”

Sooyoung’s shoulders stiffen. “I don’t know, okay?” She snaps, the cake threatening to topple over. Her voice grows progressively higher as she says, “Of course I love him—this has nothing to do with him! And I really, really, really do want to get married and spend the rest of my life with him, but what if now isn’t the right time? I’m not even twenty-eight yet—what if I’m making a mistake getting married this young? What if we completely fuck ourselves over because we rushed into things?”

“You’re not rushing into things, Soo,” Sicheng soothes, gently coaxing her into putting the fork down before she accidentally stabs someone. He thinks back to the advice Ten gave him the week before and murmurs, “It’s not about how many years it’s been or whether the timing’s right; it’s about whether or not you’re ready. I don’t think you would’ve said yes to his proposal if you weren’t.”

Sooyoung still doesn’t seem entirely convinced as she anxiously shoves more cake into her mouth. “But how can you be so sure?” She whines between mouthfuls of frosting. “What if I wasn’t actually ready? And if I was then who’s to say things won’t end badly anyway?”

The truth? There’s no way to know. Time changes everything, including people. Maybe in ten, twenty years Sooyoung won’t feel the same way anymore. Sicheng could tell her that of course she and Sungjae will be together for the rest of their lives, that their relationship would never end on a bad note and they’ll be nothing but happy. He could feed her white lies to shake her out of this slump so she’ll avoid the repercussions of leaving someone at the altar. He could just say nothing at all and let her eat the rest of the cake.

But if he were to do any of those, that would only be unfair. If he wants to be a good friend, he can’t mislead her. So instead, he sets down his fork and suggests, “Let’s do a confession circle.”

“Confession circle?” Sooyoung parrots, bemused. With a skeptical raise of a brow, she questions, “What’s that? Sounds like something middle schoolers would do.”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Sicheng earnestly shakes his head. “It’s something Kun-ge and the other RA’s would always make us do whenever exam season rolled around and we were killing ourselves from studying. Basically you take turns making three confessions each and it’s supposed to help relieve stress. I was skeptical too at first, but it actually works.”

Taeil purses his lips. “Just any three confessions?” He asks, intrigued.

_The first has to be semi-serious to ease everyone in. The second is the real deal. Choose something funny for the third to end on a good note_ , Kun used to always instruct. Sicheng scoffed the first time he heard of the tradition, but he forced himself to be a good sport and went along with it anyway. He didn’t see the point in spilling his secrets to all the floormates he only vaguely knew, but somehow, it didn’t end up being nearly as bad as he thought. Call it RA magic or whatever, but if anything, he actually came out of the confession circle feeling lighter than ever.

“Follow my lead,” he says, clearing his throat. “Taeil-hyung, why don’t you tell us something that’s been on your mind, but also not that serious?”

He half expects Taeil to say no and tell them to get out of his car, but the elder merely purses his lips and scoops up some cake for himself. “Alright then. Something semi-serious? How about, uhh, the fact that I lied to Jeno about vampires the other day to trick him into getting me a coffee?”

Sooyoung makes a disgruntled noise. “That’s so boring, oppa,” she scolds. “We’ve _all_ lied to the young ones before for our personal gain. That’s like, an everyday occurrence.”

Taeil throws his hands up in frustration, nearly toppling the cake—which, by the way, is considerably shorter now than it was when it arrived at the venue—over had it not been for Sicheng’s quick reflexes. “Oh I’m _sorrrrrry_ for being so lame! You try and one-up me, then!”

Sooyoung giggles in response (g _ood, it’s working_ , Sicheng thinks with a private smile). She taps her chin in thought, then decides upon, “Well, I should probably be honest with you guys: I never had two other bridesmaids.”

“What?” Sicheng blinks, stunned. The gears whir in his brain as he rethinks every step of the interesting way she'd enlisted them. “Then why’d you tell us they dropped out at the last second?”

Calmly, and with a smallest hint of a smile on her face, Sooyoung stabs her fork back into the cake and softly confesses, “Because I always wanted you guys up there with me, but I thought you’d say no if I’d asked earlier. So I lied to guilt you into it.”

Well, then. That’s a bit deeper of a confession than Sicheng had expected and more of a second confession level, but he can’t stop the warm feeling blooming inside his chest. Sooyoung is many things—beautiful, smart, a perfectionist, mischievous, confident, not quite as confident as she wants to be—and no matter how early in the morning she makes him get up or how many time she kicks him with her stilettos, she’s a damn loving friend on top of it all. Perhaps she’s not the best at expressing it, but Sooyoung has never been afraid to love and care for others.

Taeil sniffles loudly. “Sicheng, please go before I start sobbing and embarrass myself,” he orders, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer.

“Alright, alright,” Sicheng chuckles, racking his brain for anything mildly serious he’s got to get off his chest. Right at that moment, he catches a glimpse of Chanyeol in the parking lot, carrying Jisung with one arm and a wrapped box in the other. “I guess for me it’s that I think I don’t actually hate kids after all.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Sooyoung and Taeil shout in unison. The former points her fork at him accusingly, says, “You don’t hate them, Sicheng—you’re _afraid_ of them. Or, I suppose you _were_ afraid of them because you never actually gave them a chance.”

Taeil nods in agreement. “Park Jisung was enough to enlighten you?” He comments amusedly.

Sicheng thinks of a small hand on his ankle and a head of soft hair nestled against his stomach. “Maybe,” he concedes with a hint of a smile. “But let’s leave it at that. Now we’ve got to do a serious confession for the second one. You start again, hyung.”

“Ugh, why me? Is it because I’m old? Because that's ageist” Taeil complains without any real trace of bitterness. “How serious are we talking?”

“Very.”

“Hmm. Okay, I think I’ve got one,” Taeil exhales, fidgeting with his fingers and wetting his lips. “I know that I shouldn’t measure self-worth by my relationship status, but sometimes it’s hard to not feel like there’s something wrong with me. I see how happy all the couples in the office are and I want to find someone I can share that kind of feeling with, but I’m almost thirty now and I haven’t been on a date in years. And I pretend these things don’t bother me or play it off as me being sarcastic, but I do get lonely sometimes. A lot of the time.”

“Hyung…” Sicheng breathes. There have been plenty of instances in which he and Sooyoung both ditched Taeil for plans with their partners, but Taeil would always wave it off and claim he was happiest spending time alone. How could Sicheng have fallen for that ruse so easily? How did he never notice? Because he didn't care enough? Because he took Taeil for granted? _I’m such a shi—_

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop overthinking?” Taeil chastises, jabbing the prongs of his fork in Sicheng’s direction. Tone neutral, he murmurs, “It’s nothing for either of you to feel sorry for. I told you the truth and now you know; it’s as simple as that. Whether or not I meet someone is up to me and not you.”

Sooyoung sighs. “Still, whenever you feel lonely we really are here for you,” she proclaims. “Hell, we’ve all got each others’ backs. That’s what got us into this situation after all, right?”

Taeil rolls his eyes. “This is what my life has become,” he laments to no one in particular. “Thirty years and I’m sitting here in the back of my car, eating a stolen wedding cake with a runaway bride and a tsundere. How fucking lovely.”

“True friendship!” Sooyoung cheers, waving her fork around—and nearly stabbing Sicheng in the eye—for emphasis. “Is it my turn again?”

_That’s more like the Soo I know._ “Yeah, go ahead,” Sicheng waves.

It takes a good five or so more bites of cake before she speaks up again. “Marriage scares me,” Sooyoung admits bluntly and without a trace of shame. “Realistically, the only thing that's going to change will be that we now have a piece of paper, but it’s also _marriage_ , you know? All my life adults have talked it up like it’s the endgame of all relationship, like it can’t go up from there. So even though I love Sungjae and want to marry him and I do feel ready, I can’t shake this feeling off that once we go through with it, that’s where we’ll peak. As if it can only go downhill from there.”

“Admittedly there’s some truth to that,” Taeil concurs thoughtfully. “But that’s the negative way of looking at it. You could argue that after marriage, there aren’t really any ‘big steps’ left besides maybe having kids, but that doesn’t mean your relationship has to get worse. If anything I think it can still get better, or at least stay constant.”

Sooyoung groans, sinking even further into the leather seat. “I know,” she mumbles forlornly. “I know you’re right, oppa. But why am I still scared, then? I have all the logic, but my feelings are all screwed up”

Sicheng thinks he knows the answer to that one. He has, after all, been going through his own struggle with logic over emotions. “Because everything about relationships is scary,” he says. “Because none of us know how long we’re going to be together or if we’ll last, yet we give so much of ourselves to our partners anyway.”

Dragging his tongue across his lips, he wills himself to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. _If you can’t be honest with him, then at least be honest with them._

“Yuta asked me to officially move in with him, and I told him I’d think about it but I still don’t know what I want to tell him,” Sicheng discloses in a shameful mutter. “I keep clinging to all these different excuses to explain why I’m not ready for that yet, but I think it all boils down to me still being afraid of commitment. Because yes, we’ve been together for a while now and I basically do already live with him, but I’m scared of it becoming too real if we take that next step.”

“What do you mean, ‘too real’?” Sooyoung echoes, narrowing her eyes in disbelief. “Hate to break it to you Sicheng, but it already is real. It’s been real ever since you asked him out and it’s never gotten any less real since then.”

Taeil nods, eyes pensive as he observes Sicheng’s withdrawn figure. He cocks his head to the side and wisely says, “She’s right; sure relationships get more serious once you move in together, but that doesn’t mean whatever happened before then wasn’t just as important. Getting rid of your apartment—the apartment you should’ve gotten rid of a long time ago, mind you—isn’t going to be a big game changer. You’re still going to be Sicheng and Yuta no matter what.”

_But for how long? Anything can happen and there’s so much I don’t have control over. I don’t want to risk losing him. I_ can't.

Taeil clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Overthinking yet again; when will you learn to stop doing that?”

_Never._ “Until we start figuring our shit out,” Sicheng muses, unable to stop the corners of his lips from tugging upwards. “Looks like we’re screwed for life, then.”

Sooyoung manages to crack a smile, too. “I mean, I stole the cake and almost left my fiancé at the altar, Taeil-oppa pretends to be a conspiracy loony just to fuck with people, and you’re a commitaphobic tsundere. I think it’s safe to say we’re never getting our shit together,” she reasons.

“Not until the day we die,” Taeil concludes. “Is it time for the third confession now?”

Only then does Sicheng notice just how full the parking lot has gotten. They’ve been sitting in Taeil’s car for an awfully long time and the cake is half gone, which is probably a bad sign because no one will want to eat cake that three idiots already demolished and he doesn't think they can finish the rest because the damn thing is awfully tall. But, oh well. There are worse things that could happen.

Sicheng nods, scraping at some frosting with his fork. “Yeah, the last one is supposed to be something funny. Like a nice way to end things.”

“Hmmm, I’ve got one: I’m so painfully single these days that even Doyoung looks promising,” Taeil casually remarks.

Sicheng and Sooyoung both freeze with their forks halfway to their mouths. “Come again?” Sooyoung blinks, exchanging a baffled look with Sicheng. “Did you just say what I think you just said?”

Taeil just shrugs and calmly eats more cake, seemingly unaware of his friends’ mental breakdowns. “What? He’s a good-looking dude. Ten out of ten would fuck him or let him fuck me, whichever he prefers.”

Silence. Dead silence. The deadest silence to ever exist.

“And on that note, I’ve lost my appetite,” Sicheng decides, setting his fork down with more force than necessary. The disturbing imagery of Taeil and Kim fucking Doyoung of all people makes him shudder. _Google: how to bleach something out of my mind._

“Ditto,” Sooyoung agrees, but not before swallowing one last bite. Then she tosses her fork to the side and reaches across Taeil to open the car door. “Well boys, this has been fun and all, but,” she grins like a Chesire cat, “it’s about damn time I got married.”

Despite Sooyoung’s unfinished hair, the frosting stains on her dressand Sicheng and Taeil’s sleeves, the best man clad in a bizarre centaur costume, the complete lack of a cake because the three idiots had to throw it away, and a minor mishap in which the ring bearer nearly dropped the rings, the ceremony goes swimmingly. Sooyoung and Sungjae get married underneath a flowery gazebo, their parents cry, and the guests clutch their hearts at all the right moments. The groomsmen and bridesmaids all look nice (yes, including Eunkwang the centaur) and stand with perfect posture and clasped hands, pride swelling in their chests at the sight of their dear friends finally getting married.

(“Dude,” Taeil hisses out of the corner of his mouth while Sooyoung recites her vows. “Is it just me or is that cake not sitting too well right about now?”

Sicheng, who feels a bit green around the gills himself, utters a simple, “Shut up.”)

Sicheng manages to escape the bridesmaid table in favor of sitting next to Yuta, who greets him with a kiss and a cheeky remark about him being the prettiest bridesmaid in the room. In response, Sicheng jabs him in the ribs, but not before blushing and ducking his head.

Also occupying their table are some of their coworkers—Ten, Johnny, Lucas, Mark, Jeno, Jaemin, and Taeil—and a striking couple Sicheng vaguely recognizes to be Taeyong and Jaehyun. Taeyong, whose face is so beautiful Sicheng feels unworthy just by looking at him, strikes up conversation with Yuta while the unfairly, ridiculously handsome Jaehyun turns to Sicheng, offering him a dimpled smile and some small talk that isn’t all that bad and actually feels sincere as far as small talk goes. 

A little later in the evening, the four young ones run off to the dance floor while Taeyong tugs Jaehyun over to the bar. The second the godly couple is gone, Sicheng slumps down in his chair and exhales the breath he’d been holding ever since he sat down.

“Damn,” Yuta whistles lowly, also now slouching in his seat. “You think we could ever be that hot?”

“No chance in hell,” Sicheng replies without hesitation.

“The sad truth.”

Across from them, Ten scoffs. “No one’s hotter than Taeyong and Jaehyun,” he points out helpfully.

Johnny makes an affronted expression. “Not even us? That’s so cruel, babe,” the long-legged giant complains.

“Yeah, ‘cause unfortunately you bring our collective hotness down by a lot,” Ten sasses. He pecks Johnny in consolation, then stands up. “I’m bored though, so let’s go dance.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny salutes sarcastically, following him nonetheless with a soft adoration in his eyes (fucking _whipped_ ).

That leaves just Yuta, Sicheng, and Taeil at the table. Neither of the latter two even touched dinner the whole evening, stomachs too full from the cloying sweetness of the wedding cake. Taeil, however, doesn’t seem to have a problem with drinking, as he’s been nursing glass after glass of wine despite his low tolerance and shows no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“Not gonna lie, you two look like you could throw up any second now,” Yuta comments, soothingly rubbing Sicheng’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“Don’t be surprised if I do,” Sicheng moans, pressing his forehead to Yuta’s shoulder and clutching at his churning stomach. Wonders, “Why do we always let Sooyoung talk us into doing stupid things?” 

Taeil takes a small sip of his wine, complexion still pale and clammy. “Speaking of stupid things, should I ask Doyoung to dance?” He muses out loud.

Sicheng tries to lift his head up, but quite frankly he’s way too lazy and already feels comfortable where he is so he settles for a half-hearted, “Hell no. Don’t do it.”

“It’s so tempting,” Taeil whines, casting a quick glance to where Doyoung is talking to Jongdae and Chanyeol at the bar. “Look at him—that tux makes him look so hot!”

_You already see him in a suit every day, idiot._ “No. Resist.”

“Oops, can’t hear you. Drunk Taeil has no self-control.”

“Even you don’t get drunk off of only wine.”

“You’re right,” Taeil admits, absently stirring his wine around in its glass. With a melancholy sigh, he states, “I am a responsible adult; there will be no impetuous decisions tonight or any night.”

Approximately three seconds later, he downs the rest of his wine in one gulp and sets the empty glass down with a loud _clink!_ “Fuck it,” Taeil mutters. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, leaving a suspicious purple mark on the cuff. The glint in his eyes is completely uncharacteristic of the odd man as he boldly declares, “What’s life without a few bad decisions?”

Sicheng’s eyes widen in horror. “Hyung,” he yelps, catching Taeil’s blazer to stop him. “You can’t possibly be serious, right?”’

Even Yuta seems alarmed. “Maybe you should think this one through, hyung?” He suggests, sounding completely befuddled at the thought of anyone finding Kim Doyoung (AKA Satan) attractive.

Taeil merely rips his jacket off and tosses it at Sicheng. “ _Carpe_ fucking _diem_!” The small man shouts, charging headfirst towards an innocent (for once) Kim Doyoung.

“You don’t even know what that means!” Sicheng calls after him, but it’s too little too late. 

Taeil grabs Doyoung by the arm and, before the latter can even part his mouth in surprise, Taeil declares something along the lines of, “You’re mine!” and all but drags a flabbergasted bunny man to the dance floor. Interestingly enough, however, Doyoung doesn’t show any resistance and even smiles—albeit a confused one—as Taeil moves his body to a completely different rhythm than the one the band produces.

“Should I ask?” Yuta wonders, baffled.

Sicheng just nestles even closer, wearily shoving his head against his boyfriend’s neck. “Don’t even bother,” he grumbles, making a mental note to slap Taeil upside the head the next time they see each other at work. _That'll teach him to scare the shit out of me like that ever again._

As Yuta resumes his ministrations of rubbing his back, Sicheng contentedly observes the antics on the dance floor. The band just switched from upbeat to somber and the floor is filled with couples slow dancing. Newlyweds Sooyoung and Sungjae can’t stop beaming at each other while the bridesmaids and groomsmen cheer them on. Eunkwang the centaur best man keeps whacking everyone with the horse part of his costume, but he’s too hyper to notice or care. Lucas twirls Mark around a little too fast for a slow dance, mouth stretched in a wide grin as he coos over his flustered boyfriend. Chanyeol doesn’t have a partner, but he appears more than happy to sway in one spot with Jisung in his arms, smiling down at his son with a fondness beyond words ( _they'll be okay_ , Sicheng decides). The ever adorable Jeno and Jaemin have their arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together as they talk and giggle, sneaking in a kiss every now and then.

(“Hey, leave some room for Jesus!” Ten shouts at his beloved (former) intern, although he really isn’t one to talk because he’s practically grinding his hips against Johnny’s despite this being a PG event.

“Jesus isn’t real!” Jaemin retorts defiantly.

Mark manages to stop spinning long enough to whip his head towards him. “Take it back!” He cries out in indignation.)

Yuta’s hand is warm as he hums some recent pop song and presses his cheek to the top of Sicheng’s head. “You wanna get out of here?” He murmurs, idly resting his other hand on Sicheng’s thigh.

“What, you’re trying to bed me without giving me a dance?” Sicheng jokes, slipping his own hand on top of Yuta’s. “Not very gentlemanly of you, Mr. Nakamoto.”

Yuta guffaws in that annoyingly endearing way he does whenever Sicheng’s attempt at sassing him comes off as petty instead of snarky. “What I _meant_ was that you should probably get some sleep so you can get over your stomachache, but I’m not opposed to a dance. I am opposed to sex though, since I don’t want you throwing up on me in the middle of it.”

Sicheng wrinkles his nose. _Moment effectively broken._ “You’re gross,” he decides, disentangling himself from his boyfriend. “But yeah, I do want to head back. Just let me say bye to Sooyoung first.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go grab our jackets,” Yuta nods. He gets up and kisses Sicheng’s cheek, mumbling a quiet, “Be right back,” before jogging over to the cloak tent.

Warmth pools from the spot where Yuta kissed him and spreads from his cheek to his heart. _Everything’s fine_ , he tells himself. _You’re all good; nothing has to change. We’re perfect as is._

Stomach still churning but not quite as violently as before, Sicheng strides towards the dance floor, hoping to find Sooyoung quickly so he can head home as soon as possible. But strangely, the floor seems a lot more congested than before, with a large crowd of guests swarming by the stage and Sooyoung nowhere to be found. He frowns—he could’ve sworn he’d just seen her dancing with Sungjae—and, upon catching a glimpse of an unmistakable pointed nose, he taps Ten on the shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” Sicheng inquires, grimacing as an overeager teenage girl jostles into him from behind.

Ten just grins. “Soo’s about to toss the bouquet!” He explains, needing to shout in order to be heard over the excited crowd.

Ah, right. The whole tradition where the bride tosses her bouquet and whomever catches it will supposedly be the next to get married. Totally stupid in Sicheng’s opinion since there’s no practical reasoning behind it and if anything it just puts unnecessary pressure on the catcher and their partner if they have one, but it’s a fun tradition nonetheless. Granted, it’s all fun and games until some overenthusiastic participants get a a little too violent over a bunch of flowers, but oh well.

“Here it comes!” Sooyoung, who now stands on the stage, yells, eliciting screams of excitement from the hopeful crowd. With a dramatic spin, she faces the opposite direction and throws the bouquet behind her as hard as she can. The flowers sail through the air in a perfect arc, suspended in midair as they reach their peak before gracefully falling back down, ready to be caught by a pair of zealous hands.

Sicheng, who’s slightly miffed that he can’t go home quite yet, impatiently taps his foot as he waits for someone to catch the damned bouquet already. Suddenly, a sharp elbow collides with his back, causing him to lurch forward and hold his arms out for balance. And then he sees it—the bouquet floating towards him, just a little over a stretch of the arms away. Reflexively, he uncurls his fingers and stands on his tiptoes and—

(And then he sees it—

A man on one knee. An arm looped through his as he walks down the aisle. A weight sliding on his fourth finger. A pair of lips sparking with electricity.

—and it’s too real.)

—right as his fingertips touch the satin ribbon tying the bouquet together, he flattens his palms and bats it towards Ten.

Cheers and wolf whistles erupt in the air as the short man stares incredulously at the bouquet in his hands, almost as if he can’t believe what’s happened. Then a slow, mischievous smirk curls across his lips as Ten whips around and screams, “Hey, Johnnnnnnnnnny!” at the top of his lungs.

“Too soon!” Johnny, from where he’s nursing a drink at the bar, bellows in return.

Ten’s smirk only widens. “It’s never too soon for true love!” He cries out, weaving through the crowd at a lightning-fast pace. “Gimme a ring, hyung!”

Johnny’s eyes widen in alarm. Quickly, he sets his drink on the countertop and makes a dash for the exit, screaming something unintelligible about how they’ve only been dating for five months as Ten chases after him at an oddly fast rate given his much shorter legs.

“I don’t think Sooyoung could’ve picked a more chaotic person to toss it to,” Seungwan remarks loudly, prompting amused giggles from the crowd.

Sicheng laughs too, because of all people to catch the bouquet it just had to be the only person capable of tormenting poor Johnny Seo. But the laughter quickly dies in his throat when he sees someone standing by the entrance with his mouth set in a grim line.

_Yuta._

It only takes one glance at his stony eyes for Sicheng’s chest to constrict and heart to plummet. Perhaps no one else saw in the midst of all the chaos, but Yuta did. Yuta saw, and he _knows_.

And it makes everything all the more real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I'm Chinese but only learned how to pronounce the Chinese boys' names correctly like a week ago. From now on I will only refer to Renjun as Lenjween.


	5. what doesn't go to hell at this point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory angst chapter coming up because I'm me.

_Dong Sicheng to Qian Kun_

_Dong Sicheng: I fucked up_

_Qian Kun: What? What’s going on? What happened? Are you okay?_

_Dong Sicheng: I just…god, I don’t even know how to explain it. He’s not speaking to me right now, what should I do?_

_Qian Kun: Sicheng, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on. Just talk to me, please._

_Dong Sicheng: I don’t even know where to start, ge._

_Qian Kun: Okay, then let’s start with this: Is it about Yuta?_

_Qian Kun: Sicheng? Sicheng???_

_Dong Sicheng: Sorry, I just got a bit distracted…anyway, it’s getting late and I just got home so I’m kinda tired. I’ll call you another time, ge._

_Qian Kun: You can’t just run away from your problems!_

_Dong Sicheng: I’m not running away. I just need time._

_Qian Kun: If you say so._

_Park Sooyoung to Dong Sicheng_

_Park Sooyoung: Hey!!! Where’d you disappear to? I wanted to take group pictures with you and Taeil-oppa but you weren’t there :’(_

_Dong Sicheng: Oh, sorry. Yuta-hyung and I left early because I’m not feeling too great. The cake, y’know._

_Park Sooyoung: Oh…but why’d you go without saying goodbye?_

_Dong Sicheng: Something just came up. I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good friend._

_Park Sooyoung: Don’t say that! You saved me today with that confession circle thing—you’re still a great friend even though you left my wedding early <3_

_Park Sooyoung: But also…YOU LEFT MY WEDDING EARLY WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE AND I KNOW SOMETHING IS GOING ON SO YOU’D BETTER BE PREPARED TO BE INTERROGATED ONCE I GET BACK FROM MY HONEYMOON !!!_

_Park Sooyoung: Got it? ^_^_

_Dong Sicheng: Yes, ma’am._

“I need a shower,” Yuta declares the second he sets foot in the apartment. Not even bothering to glance back at Sicheng, he mumbles, “You should get some sleep since you had to get up so early. I'll be in bed soon.”

There’s nothing more Sicheng wants than to collapse on the bed and not move for the rest of the weekend—he had to get up way too early and eating that much cake is giving him a massive sugar crash—but the guilt that’s been worming its way into his heart for hours is too much.

The whole ride home, he hadn’t been able to think of anyway except the look on Yuta’s face when the bouquet incident occurred. Sicheng can still feel the slight stinging on his palms from where he pushed the flowers away and the new wave of queasiness that had nothing to do with the cake. Yuta’s far from an open book, but his poker face has plenty of cracks. 

Disappointment in the line of his mouth. Upset in his curled fists. Confusion in the raise of his brows. And—worst of all—pure sadness in his eyes.

Sicheng did that to him, and all because he couldn’t bring himself to catch a goddamn bouquet. For that alone, he can’t just let the night end like this.

Before Yuta can slip away, Sicheng lurches forward and tugs on his sleeve. “Hyung,” he gasps, nervously running his tongue over his lips. Yuta doesn’t turn around to face him, which is probably—no, definitely—a bad sign but it only spurs him on even more. “Hyung, I’m sorry. I’m really, really, _really_ sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Sicheng,” Yuta responds neutrally, not making an effort to pull away but the way he speaks builds another invisible barrier between them. With a long sigh, he continues to say, “I should be sorry, if anything. I overreacted, and I don’t want you to stress about it when you already have enough going on. I’m sorry for making you worry.”

_Why are you sorry? It’s my fault—_ mine _, so please stop doing this to yourself._

“I just—” Sicheng hesitates, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. _Goddammit, why won’t you just look at me?_ “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. It’s just a dumb tradition, right? I should’ve caught the damn thing, but I was stupid so I didn’t.”

Internally, he curses himself for coming up with such a subpar apology, but it’s about all he can manage in his frazzled, sleep-deprived, and stressed state. Yuta will understand—he _always_ understands even when Sicheng himself can’t put it into words. Right. 

_Right?_

After what feels like an eternity, Yuta turns to face him—and the dull gleam in his eyes is enough to make Sicheng recoil in shock, fingers slipping away from the fabric of Yuta’s sleeve. 

It’s that expression again, and it doesn’t hurt any less the second time around.

Yuta smiles, but it’s nowhere close to his usual electric grin. He just seems so _tired_ when he’s always been so bright, and that scares Sicheng unlike anything else because _he_ is the one who is responsible and _oh god, what have I done?_

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” Yuta tilts his head imploringly. As an afterthought, he brushes a hand against Sicheng’s arm and murmurs, “I think we’re both too tired to have a rational conversation, so it’s better to save this for another time. I promise I’m not mad—just give me some time, okay?”

For both of their sakes, Yuta’s trying to be reassuring. And if Sicheng were a little bit stronger or a little braver, he wouldn’t accept it because it’s _not_ okay. He hurt Yuta, but Yuta is a self-sacrificing idiot who’s trying to remain patient even though he has all the right in the world to be angry. It would be easier if he were mad right now. Sicheng thinks anything, even Yuta yelling at him, would be better than that empty, downcast expression.

But Sicheng’s never been as brave as he’d like to be.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing down any words of protest before they can reach his tongue. “Okay then. Let’s talk soon.”

The filing cabinet weighs heavier than ever when later that night, Yuta climbs into bed, throws an arm over Sicheng, and murmurs a quiet, “I love you.”

The bed is cold when he wakes up.

Mind immediately jumping to the worst conclusions, Sicheng jolts upward and all but hurls himself out of bed. The bathroom is empty, and when he dashes into the living room there’s still no one to be found. Heart pounding with dread, Sicheng anxiously checks the entrance and, to his dismay, finds Yuta’s favorite pair of canvas shoes missing.

_Holy shit, you’ve done it now, Dong Sicheng. You’ve really driven your boyfriend slash the possible love or your life slash soulmate away. He’s gonna come back with a moving truck and start boxing his things away and he’ll leave you here to rot even though it’s his apartment, and then you’ll have to pay rent for two places—wait, no, he’s a responsible adult who’s not afraid of commitment and actually bought his apartment—and you’re gonna go broke and be forced to live in a hostel or worse, move back in with your parents. See what happens when you can’t catch a fucking bouquet? You’re screwed for life, that’s what._

At some point during his mental breakdown, his feet dragged him over to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee. Only after he gets the pot brewing does he notice a plate of what looks like toast and pork belly covered by a sheet of cling wrap with a sticky note slapped on top.

_Morning, Winko!!! ^_^_

_It’s currently nine as I’m writing this, but I bet it’s closer to lunch time by the time you get up :D I was gonna wake you up, but you looked like you could do with some more beauty sleep (that’s not saying you’re ugly!!!) so I let you be. I’m off at brunch with Ten and Seungwan because they called saying they needed someone to treat their hungover asses a shit ton of carbs, and they also want to go watch a movie too (why they want to do that when they’re hungover, I have zero clue) so it’ll probably be a while before I get back :’(_

_Oh, you probably didn’t check your phone because you’re still sleepy, but I’m pretty sure Taeil and Sooyoung were blowing up your messages XD I didn’t read anything though, I swear—trust me, your screen was lighting up every second and I just saw flashes of their names. I think I saw your Chinese group chat too, but I couldn’t read the names TT_TT You probably want to tend to them hahaha :)_

_I took the subway, so you’ve got the car to yourself if you’re planning on going out. Try not to eat any more cake, Winwinnie! Love you <3_

_-Yuta_

For the first time since he woke up, Sicheng’s chest loosens and he can finally breathe again. It’s okay, he reassures himself. Yuta isn’t mad anymore; they were both just tired last night. That’s all. Everything is good. Fuck the bouquet. Their relationship lives to see another day.

With that in mind, he cheerfully pours himself a cup of coffee and sticks the plate in the microwave, unable to contain a somewhat deranged giggle from escaping past his lips as he beams down at the sticky note. _He still loves me,_ Sicheng thinks giddily. _I didn’t ruin everything after all._

As his food heats up, he goes back to the bedroom to retrieve his phone which, sure enough, is bursting with unread messages. The chat with his friends from China is probably nothing more than the usual shenanigans from the kids, so he clicks on that one first to get it out of the way.

_Feeling that V_

_Huang Xuxi: [10 attachments]_

_Huang Xuxi: Sicheng-ge and I went to a wedding yesterday! Look how cute we are!_

_Qian Kun: Xuxi, you do realize that nine of those pictures are of you and some small guy while the tenth is of you and a very disgruntled-looking Sicheng, right?_

_Huang Xuxi: ^_^_

_Xiao Dejun: Ooooh that small guy is super cute. Does he understand Mandarin?_

_Huang Guanheng: Dejun you idiot, that’s obviously his boyfriend._

_Xiao Dejun: Oops, my bad :P_

_Huang Xuxi: It’s okay, Mark is the cutest so I understand (*_*) But sorry, he’s mine!_

_Xiao Dejun: Does he happen to have an equally cute friend who understands Mandarin, then?_

_Qian Kun: You are one sad, sad, excuse of a human._

_Liu Yangyang: Agreed._

_Huang Xuxi: Hmm, I’ll have to ask him but I’ll keep my eyes peeled for all of you :O_

_Liu Yangyang: Hey, why does Sicheng-ge look like he’s about to throw up in that picture? I’d say it’s because you’re next to him, but he legitimately looks like he’s about to be sick._

_Huang Guanheng: Oh damn, Yangyang’s right. Did he eat some bad seafood or something?_

_Huang Xuxi: I think that’s because he ate the entire wedding cake with two of his friends before the wedding even started._

_Qian Kun: He WHAT?_

_Qian Kun: @Dong Sicheng explain yourself immediately, you degenerate._

_Xiao Dejun: Yeah, who eats someone else’s cake?! That’s just low, Sicheng-ge._

_Huang Xuxi: I love cake TT_TT But I couldn’t have any TT_TT_

_Huang Guanheng: Sicheng-ge, you inconsiderate bitch._

_Dong Sicheng: Try calling me a bitch again, Guanheng. I fucking dare you._

_Huang Guanheng: Whoopsie :)_

_Dong Sicheng: Anyway, we didn’t eat the entire cake, and one of my friends was the bride herself. She stole it and hid in my other friend’s car and we had to convince her not to leave her now husband at the altar, but she was already eating the cake so we joined her. We ate like half of it, but at that point it would be bad to give it to the rest to the guests so we just threw it out. And then I felt like throwing up because I'd eaten too much sugar. End of story._

_Huang Xuxi: But why’d you leave early? Sooyoung-noona looked pretty annoyed when she couldn’t find you._

_Dong Sicheng: Hahahahahahahaha_

_Dong Sicheng: Gotta go_

Not wanting to explain himself since Kun will undoubtedly interrogate him at some point and there’s _obviously_ nothing to worry about anymore, Sicheng closes WeChat and opens up KaKaoTalk. Sure enough, he’s got a couple messages from Taeil and an entire flood from Sooyoung.

_Moon Taeil to Dong Sicheng_

_Moon Taeil: Soo called me at some ungodly hour morning demanding to know where you are. I suggest you respond to her ASAP._

_Moon Taeil: Please, answer her. I’m a bit busy at the moment._

Moon Taeil, busy? Sounds fake, but Sicheng lets that slide. Besides, he’s got a bigger problem at hand that comes in the form of the one and only Park Sooyoung.

_Park Sooyoung to Dong Sicheng_

_Park Sooyoung: Okay, so our plane to Japan has been delayed for god knows how long and in the time we have to wait I could probably already get there on a paddleboat._

_Park Sooyoung: But anyway_

_Park Sooyoung: I have a lot of questions for you, mister. I let you off easy last night because you seemed stressed, but I’m not holding back anymore._

_Park Sooyoung: What’s going on with you? Don’t lie and say nothing’s wrong when there was definitely something off about you last night. You were acting weird, and it wasn’t just because of how much cake you ate._

_Park Sooyoung: Tell me what’s wrong; I want to help!_

_Park Sooyoung: Ugh, why aren’t you responding to anything? Shouldn’t you be awake by now?_

_Park Sooyoung: Whatever, I’ll deal with you later. I’ll let you stay in denial for the next two weeks, but once I’m back I’m making you spill._

_Park Sooyoung: Oh shit, my plane is here._

_Park Sooyoung: Anyway, even though I hate you sometimes I unfortunately still love you to death. Thanks again for saving me from becoming a runaway bride. See ya soon!_

_Dong Sicheng: Hey, I just woke up. I’m sorry for making you worry, but I’ve already resolved the issue. All good for now! I’ll fill you in once you get back, but I promise it’s not a big deal. Have a great honeymoon!_

Yet another problem solved, _check._ Sicheng’s on a fucking roll today—not bad for someone who just woke up twenty minutes ago.

As he munches on the breakfast Yuta made him, Sicheng scrolls through his social media with his free hand. His entire feed consists of wedding photos from the night before, ranging from romantic shots of the newlyweds to goofy candid of the guests. There’s Eunkwang the centaur slash best man, Yukhei giving Mark a piggyback, and even a few of Sicheng and Taeil looking positively miserable and clammy as all hell. In the midst of laughing at a funny picture of a scowling Jongdae—scowling over what, Sicheng has no clue, but it more than likely has to do with Ten and Seungwan—he scrolls to the next image and is met with Ten holding the bouquet in one hand and grabbing Johnny’s lapel with the other, a devious smirk on his face.

Ah. Right.

Sicheng figures that that’s enough wedding pictures for now and busies himself with rinsing his plate and leaving it in the sink, not in the mood to properly wash it. Maybe he should pay Taeil a visit today. It’s not like he has anything else to do, and Yuta probably won’t be back until dinner. Besides, god knows what kind of shenanigans a “tipsy” Moon Taeil got up to last night. The guy probably actually does have a hangover because he’s a weakling like that, so Sicheng might as well offer him some support.

After a quick shower, Sicheng shoves a pack of aspirin into his pocket and heads out. Taeil only lives a couple blocks over, so he doesn’t bother with the car and takes this as an opportunity to get some much needed sunlight. He shoots Yuta a quick text telling him where he’s off to, humming a tune to himself as he leisurely strolls to Taeil’s.

“Hey, hyung!” Sicheng calls, impatiently rapping on the door after Taeil ignored his first five rings of the doorbell. Furrowing his brow, Sicheng hits the door even harder. Surely Taeil is home, right? It’s not like he goes out a lot.

“Hyuuuuuuuuuung!” he shouts again, striking with even more force. “Taeil-hyung, open up! I’m here to take care of your hungover ass because even though you don’t get drunk off of wine you like to complain anyway! Hyuuuung!”

Maybe Sicheng could try kicking down the door. Years of Chinese traditional dance taught him how to be flexible and fluid, as well as condition his legs. If he goes for a front aerial, would that be strong enough to break the hinges?

Fortunately, before he can do anything stupid, the handle turns and the door swings open. “Oh my god, fucking _finally_!” Sicheng exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ve only been waiting like an idiot for ten minutes! What took you so long, hyu— _what the fuck?_ ”

That is not Taeil facing him. Unless Taeil shot up a few inches overnight, stretched his face vertically, and received cosmetic surgery to look like a bunny, that most certainly is not him.

“Afternoon, Sicheng,” Kim Doyoung dips his head in greeting, ever so casually propping himself against the doorframe and blowing at the steam coming from his cup of tea. With an arch of a brow, he states, “Here to see Taeil?”

_No, I was only shouting his name these past ten minutes for shits and giggles._ “Um,” Sicheng replies blankly, dumbstruck. He rubs at his eyes, hoping that when he looks again it’ll all have been just a lucid dream and this Doyoung apparition will be gone. 

Sadly, Doyoung’s still standing before him, drinking his tea like he owns the place.

Sicheng frowns. “Wait. Is that my hoodie? And,” he sweeps his gaze downwards to take in the pair of black joggers covering Doyoung’s legs, “are those my pants?”

“Oh, yeah,” Doyoung shrugs, unaffected. “Taeil’s clothes are all too short for me, so he gave me some of yours.”

_Literally what the fuck._ “Okay, but how does he have my clothes in the first place? I’ve been looking for that hoodie for ages!”

Like magic, Taeil’s head pops over Doyoung’s shoulder out of absolutely fucking nowhere, effectively startling Sicheng. “You left them here after our last sleepover with Sooyoung,” Taeil explains sagely, owlish eyes wide and solemn.

“Hang on,” Sicheng frowns. He distinctively remembers the last impromptu spa and wine night the three of them had, and he also very clearly remembers neatly folding his casual clothes and packing them into his duffel bag, then leaving the bag unattended for a few minutes as he went to use the bathroom one last time before leaving. Pointing an accusing finger at his friend, Sicheng furiously demands, “Did you _steal_ my clothes?”

Taeil merely lifts and lowers his narrow shoulders without a care in the world. “It was for a good cause.”

“Indeed,” Doyoung agrees, appreciatively running a hand over the material of the hoodie. “Very soft. Ten out of ten for comfort. You have good taste, Sicheng.”

“Um, thanks?” Sicheng gapes listlessly, even more dumbfounded than he was twenty seconds ago. _Literally what the fuuuuuuuuuuck._

Doyoung turns to Taeil. “Well, this has been a lot of fun but I should head home to water my succulents. I’ll see you tomorrow, hyung.”

“Mmm,” Taeil nods, plucking the empty teacup out of Doyoung’s hand. “Don’t forget to pick me up for breakfast before work.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Doyoung promises with a toothy grin. With one last wave and a nod to Sicheng, he heads out—but not quickly enough to escape a slap on the ass from Taeil, who looks entirely too pleased with himself and his actions.

_Holy. Fucking. Shit_. “I’m confused,” Sicheng deadpans.

Taeil shoots him a quizzical look as he gestures for Sicheng to come in, leading the way to the living room. “What’s to be confused about? We’re both adults, Sicheng—obviously I took Doyoung home after the wedding and we fucked,” he remarks breezily.

Upon hearing _that_ very blunt confession, Sicheng promptly trips over thin air and, had it not been for his lightning fast reflexes, nearly faceplants on the carpet. “What do you _mean_ , you fucked?” Sicheng cries out in horror, scandalized by his usually mild and drama-free friend.

“Do you really need me to explain the birds and the bees?” Taeil rolls his eyes. “You have a boyfriend, Sicheng. Hasn’t he already shown you in graphic detail?”

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” Sicheng scowls, gingerly taking a seat next to Taeil on the couch. _Please tell me they defiled the bedroom and not the couch. Oh lord, please_. “But damn, that was fast. I didn’t even know you had a thing for Doyoung until yesterday.”

Taeil shrugs. He passes over a bowl of caramels because he’s a grandma like that and remarks, “Well, I’d hardly say I had a crush on him. I just found him attractive, that’s all. Never really spoke to the guy before other than calling him Satan, but after I dragged him to dance last night I found myself pleasantly surprised. He’s actually quite an interesting guy; who would’ve guessed!”

As he works on unwrapping his third caramel, Sicheng scrunches his forehead. “So how’d he go from ‘interesting guy’ to 'we fucked' to ‘breakfast before work’?” He wonders, still very much in the dark.

“Ahh,” Taeil says, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “So after we danced for a bit, we sat at the bar and talked, found out it’s been a long time since either of us got laid, figured, _what the hell_ , and came back here. Went at it, then talked for a bit more. Turns out we’re actually interested in a lot of the same things and have a lot in common so we were like, _why the fuck not_ , and thought we’d give this dating thing a shot. And that, dear Sichengie, is how I made Satan my bitch.”

Sicheng chokes on his caramel. “Please don’t say it like that,” he begs, shuddering at the imagery. 

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Taeil pokes his tongue out. “But yeah. We’re both adults and there’s definitely a mutual attraction, so why not see where it goes? _Carpe diem_ , amirite?”

“Hyung, I’m pretty sure you still don’t know what that means.”

“As long as I’m using it in the right context it doesn’t matter whether I know what it means.”

“I guess,” Sicheng begrudgingly admits.

As he stuffs himself with more caramels—seriously, these things are like crack—Taeil gets up and shuffles to the kitchen. “You want some tea? Snacks?” He calls.

“Nah, I’m good,” Sicheng declines, reluctantly shoving the caramels bowl as far away as possible to resist any further temptation. Between the cake from last night and the absurdly high number of empty wrappers on the coffee table now, he’s bound to die of a sugar crash any moment now. “Some water would be nice, though.”

Taeil comes back with a mug of tea for himself and a glass of water for Sicheng, which he sets on the table. “So, now that my night time escapade has been cleared up, why’d you come by? Not that I’m complaining, of course, but you seemed a bit frazzled when you left last night and it’s rather unexpected for you to drop by without Sooyoung,” he remarks, tucking his legs underneath him and swallowing a mouthful of tea.

_Oh, right_. “Well,” Sicheng begins, wrapping his fingers around his cold glass. “While you and Doyoung were up to no good, Yuta and I had a…I guess you could call it a fight? Kinda?”

Taeil lifts a brow, prompting him to continue. So Sicheng launches into a recount of the traumatic bouquet toss, the thoughts that flashed through his head right before he sent the flowers Ten’s way, the haunting expression on Yuta’s face, the stiflingly awkward car ride home, the harrowing conversation before bed, and the relief that rushed through his heart when he found Yuta’s note in the morning. 

“So it turns out all we needed was some time to cool down and _bam_ , problem solved,” Sicheng finishes on a bright note. He treats himself to another caramel, says, “I felt super terrible about it last night and I still do, but we’re good now. Things worked out in the end.”

Instead of congratulating him or offering some wise advice for the next time, Taeil tilts his head and purses his lips in concern. “Sicheng,” he says gently, placing his hand on top of Sicheng’s to still him in the midst of unwrapping another candy. “Are you _sure_ everything’s okay?”

“Huh?” Sicheng pauses. “I mean, yeah, everything’s fine. We’re both back to normal now so we’re good, right?”

Taeil just eyes him, skepticism in his gaze. “Well, here’s my two cents: It sounds like you’re in denial and trying to gloss over what happened as quickly as possible because you don’t want to think about it any more. Which, quite frankly, sounds like you’re running away from your problems. Both of you are.”

Sicheng shifts nervously and tightens his grip around his glass of water. “Come on, hyung,” he titters, weakly slapping at Taeil’s arm. “We talked it through and now we’re over it. Simple. Nothing to run away from.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Taeil deadpans, unimpressed. He crosses his arms and locks eyes with Sicheng, then says, “You know, usually you overthink things, but this time you’re for sure _under_ thinking. Quite frankly, I don't know which side of you is more frustrating to deal with.”

Sicheng opens his mouth to protest, but Taeil merely holds up a hand to silence him. “What do you mean you talked it through? You had one awkward conversation and haven’t even seen him all day, but a single note is enough to clear the air?” Taeil points out flatly. “Yuta’s probably only pretending to not be upset anymore for your sake, which makes him an idiot too. But don’t worry, you’re still the biggest idiot in this situation—for crying out loud, Sicheng, why couldn’t you just catch the goddamn bouquet? Honestly that’s the least of your concerns right now, but you really thought catching that thing would’ve made things too real? Did you not listen to a single word Sooyoung and I said to you yesterday?”

“Seriously, Sicheng. Your inability—no, _refusal_ —to communicate astounds me sometimes. No matter how patient and understanding Yuta is with you, he can’t just walk on eggshells forever. I wouldn’t say you’ve royally fucked up just yet, but if you keep at it you really will.”

_Shut up,_ Sicheng wants to shout. _Shut up; you don’t know what’s going on; stay out of it. When’s the last time you’ve ever been in a serious relationship, huh?_

But the second those thoughts form, he immediately regrets them. Not only are they unnecessarily cruel and lashing out at Taeil is both wrong and a bad idea, but Sicheng also knows that, whether he wants to hear them or not, Taeil only said things that are true. Because who is Sicheng trying to fool? Of course a breakfast plate and a note isn’t enough to put last night’s tension to rest; there’s still so much they have to finish resolving and other things they haven’t even touched yet. 

Sometimes it’s easier to run, though, and Sicheng’s not good at taking the more difficult path.

With a sigh, Taeil rolls his head back against the couch and shakes his head. “You probably didn’t come here for a lecture, but I had to tell you that. Don’t let this issue drag out until it can’t be fixed. You have to talk to him and you know it, Sicheng.”

“You and Yuta are good for each other, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things you can work on. I’m not saying you have to suddenly be a master at confrontation and communication overnight, but at least try.”

And then, without waiting for a response, Taeil sits upright and jostles Sicheng’s shoulder. “Anyway, that’s enough boy talk for now. Wanna bust out the face masks?”

Sicheng manages a small smile and nods. “Sounds good. I’m glad I have you, hyung.”

Taeil proudly lifts his chin. “About damn time you started appreciating me more, you punk.”

“Oh,” he adds as he gets up to find the masks. “I forget to mention it earlier, but round two happened right where you’re sitting.”

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_!” Sicheng screeches, throwing himself off the couch and onto the floor while Taeil crows hysterically in the background.

Well, it’s not like he can really be mad because a) he’s pretty sure he and Yuta have fornicated on every surface in their apartment and b) if Taeil’s happy then who’s he to come in the way of that? Besides, maybe Doyoung is more than just Satan in the form of a tech specialist with way too much time on his hands; if Taeil says he’s interesting, then Doyoung can’t be all that bad, right?

Whether Sicheng likes it or not, life just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

Sometimes though—a lot of the time, actually—things are easier said than done.

By the time Sicheng unlocks the door to Yuta’s apartment, it’s nearing dinnertime. He can hear noise from the kitchen, so he pads over and pokes his head inside, an inexplicable sense of relief flooding his body when he sees Yuta bustling around with plates in his hands.

“Hey,” Sicheng greets quietly, offering Yuta a small smile. 

_I’m home._

Startled, Yuta nearly drops his stack of plates. When he sees Sicheng though, his face immediately breaks out in the sunny beam Sicheng’s so, _so_ incredibly fond of. 

“Oh, hey,” Yuta perks up, beckoning him over with a jerk of his chin. “How was Taeil’s?”

Sicheng snorts. “Oh, _man_. Wait ’til you hear about who he took home last night.”

Yuta lifts a brow in intrigue. “Really? Do tell?”

And so Sicheng launches into a somewhat overdramatic account of Taeil and Doyoung’s budding romance—it’s probably too early to call it that, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Taeil and Doyoung may just prove to be a match made in heaven—while Yuta laughs, gasps, and/or shudders at all the appropriate times. A voice that sounds just like Taeil’s nags at him in the back of his mind, reminding Sicheng that even if everything _seems_ normal on the surface, he still needs to do something, _anything_.

Again; easier said than done.

_This isn’t running away,_ he persuades himself as he listens to Yuta’s story of how Ten and Seungwan got the three of them kicked out of the movie theater for throwing popcorn at each other. _I’m just waiting for the right timing, that’s all._

Lying tends to get easier with more practice.

Park Jisung is in his chair.

“Uncle Win!” The toddler screams enthusiastically, making grabby motions with his hands and kicking his feet in the air.

_Um…_ Carefully, Sicheng sets his bag on his desk and crouches down so he and Jisung are eye to eye. “Hi, Jisung. Why aren’t you with your dad?” He questions, baffled as to why Jisung isn’t sitting on his blanket in Chanyeol’s office like he always is. And how’d the kid even get to his seat, anyway? It’s too high for Jisung to climb himself, and he usually doesn’t venture into the main office unless it’s with his dad, Lucas, or another adult.

Jisung just scrunches his little nose. “Uncle Win!” He repeats insistently.

A booming laugh interrupts the one-sided conversation. “Jwi wants you to hold him,” Chanyeol translates from where he stands leaning against the wall. His eyes shine with adoration as he adds, “And I’d humor him if I were you, because this is his last week here.”

Sicheng’s jaw plummets. “Last week?” He echoes incredulously, distantly aware of the small hand prodding at his arm. Absently, he pats the top of Jisung’s head to placate him while he shoots Chanyeol a puzzled look and asks, “Did you find a nanny or something?”

“Nope,” Chanyeol replies with a grin. “He’s going to daycare.”

_Oh?_ “Wow,” is all Sicheng can utter in surprise. “Wow. That’s—that’s great, hyung.”

It _is_ great. As much as the team has become accustomed to Park Jisung’s presence, the office isn’t really an appropriate space for a two year old. Not even Lucas has the time to coo over Jisung all day; the best place for Jisung to receive both attention and good care would be at a daycare with well-trained teachers and other children to play with.

Still…it’s going to feel strange once he’s gone.

Chanyeol bends over and plucks Jisung out of Sicheng’s chair. “Yup. I took your advice, asked all my friends with kids for the best places, visited them all myself, then found the best one. The paperwork was approved a few days ago and he’s all set to start after this week,” Chanyeol recounts, smiling as he he brings his son close to his chest. “Figured it was the right thing to do, and he’ll be happier with kids his own age rather than some old geezers like us.”

“I see,” Sicheng nods, studying the way Jisung shifts his gaze elsewhere yet tightly clutches Chanyeol’s pristine white shirt. _Not quite all the way there yet, but they’re making it work._ “I’m happy for the both of you then, hyung,” he says, offering Chanyeol a sincere thumbs up.

It’s funny, he muses later as he reads some email on his monitor, only half paying attention to the sea of characters swimming on the screen. Sicheng’s always thought of himself as mature and levelheaded, but is he really? He can’t even bring himself to talk to Yuta, for god’s sake. Meanwhile Taeil and Doyoung are already having breakfast dates despite not having said more than ten words to each other before Saturday, and it only took a single push for Chanyeol to change his ways. Hell, Sicheng gave advice to both Taeil and Chanyeol, but who’s he to be spouting wisdom to others when he can’t apply it to his own life?

It’s not that he doesn’t want to move in with Yuta or is afraid of them breaking up if he says no, but it’s just…complicated.

( _Like hell it is,_ Taeil’s voice sneers. _You’re just being a fucking idiot.)_

Over the next few days, he can’t help but watch his coworkers in a more observational light. Jeno and Jaemin are still a very PDA-y couple, but they don’t shirk work or disappear nearly as much anymore. In fact, once they both got promoted to full time workers, they’re only really seen together during breaks and spend most of the workday focused at their desks. Jongdae takes his self-appointed role as the office dad even more seriously now that Sunyoung’s gone. He still cusses up a storm and enjoys nothing more than screwing with the chaotic troublemakers, but he’s toned down his wackier antics considerably and makes an effort to be a responsible assistant manager. Lucas’s Korean has improved enough that he no longer needs to call Sicheng over for help and is able to answer the phone like a pro. Mark, despite not initially being trained in an HR position, is a quick learner and has taken over Johnny’s role with relative ease. The dynamic idiot duo still bicker like siblings all the time, but Ten’s now become the top salesman and seems a lot happier than he was a year ago and Seungwan’s always been a steady, self-assured rock. Sooyoung’s obviously absent because she’s on her honeymoon, but she just got fucking married after nearly bailing. And don’t think for a second that Sicheng hasn’t noticed the way Taeil and Doyoung keep passing notes to each other—why they’re doing that when they could literally text or email each other, Sicheng has no clue, but admittedly it’s pretty cute—or the way they seem to genuinely like each other as they get to know the other better.

How is it that everyone else has been progressing with their lives, whereas Sicheng feels stuck in one place? Why can’t he move, too? Why is it so hard?

_Stop using that as an excuse, you fool._

Sighing loudly, he slaps himself on the cheeks and wearily clicks away the tabs he’d randomly opened out of boredom. It’s been a slow week and it’s still only noon on a Thursday. Sicheng can’t even remember what he did yesterday, the whole week blurring together into one hazy memory. Was it Tuesday that he witnessed Taeil smacking Doyoung’s ass again, or was that this morning? Did Yuta surprise him with ice cream yesterday, or was that just a dream?

Once all the extraneous tabs have vanished, he finds himself staring listlessly at his email. Ever since he got promoted he’s had to deal with a flooded inbox practically every day, and today is no different. The majority of them are calendar reminders, but he spots a few from his teammates. The most recent one is from Chanyeol, with an eye-catching subject of _Urgent!!! Retreat plans in danger!!!_ that makes Sicheng feel incredibly tempted to bash his head against a wall.

Ah, yes. The retreat. How could he have forgotten about the fucking retreat.

Reluctantly, he opens the email, already massaging his temples to soothe an inevitable headache.

_Dear Sicheng,_

_Unfortunately, I’ve got both good and bad news. The good news is that CEO Kim approved our request for higher funding for our annual summer retreat, but the bad news is that the usual campsite is out of commission this year. Something about a problem with the wildlife, if I recall. Whatever the reason, it—and please excuse my unprofessional language—really fucking blows._

_Anyway, we’ve still got a few weeks before the retreat, but finding and reserving campsites can be a pain. I’ll help you do some research, and if we really need to I can call Baekhyun too since he used to plan the trip every year. This situation is annoying, but we must pull through (or else the CEO will really tear me a new one since she gave us a lot of extra money)._

_Sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll do everything I can to help resolve this conflict as quickly as possible._

_Park Chanyeol_

_Regional Manager of the Taeng &Co Seoul Branch_

Great. Just fucking great.

Sicheng exhales through his nose and very calmly puts his monitor in sleep mode, deciding he’s had quite enough for now. Technically he’s not on lunch break for another twenty minutes, but whatever.

When he stalks through the entrance to the break room, he’s pleasantly surprised by the sight of an unusually large crowd—and by that he means five people. The youngest four chat animatedly among themselves while Yuta sits with them like a fond parent, content with listening to them bicker and occasionally adding his own input.

“Hi,” Sicheng grunts, unceremoniously dumping himself onto the only empty seat between Yuta and Jeno and plonking his head on the former’s shoulder.

Amused, Yuta runs a soothing hand through Sicheng’s hair and remarks, “Long day?”

“Long fucking week.”

“Ugh, I feel that,” Mark groans in assent. “Yesterday, s _omeone_ accidentally set off the fire alarm when he tried to cook stir fry, and now the walls of our kitchen are blackened. It’s been real fun sorting that out.”

Unperturbed, Lucas grins and placates Mark with a thump on the back. “Come on, who was the one who distracted me in the first place, Markles? If anything, you’re to blame.”

“Excuse me?” Mark squeals.

Solemnly, Lucas turns to the others at the table and shakes his head, says, “He may not look like it, but he’s actually super handsy. Just can’t control himself, tsk tsk tsk. One time he—”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” Mark declares, hurriedly slapping a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth.

Jaemin languidly picks at his rice. “No, please do tell more about dear Mark-hyung’s libido. I’d love to hear,” he teases, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Jeno bumps Jaemin’s shoulder with his. “Ew, why would you want to know about that?” He sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“For the blackmail, darling.”

“I think it’s best not to discuss anyone’s sex drive while we’re eating,” Yuta delicately interjects, trying and failing to hide a laugh as poor Mark turns red as a tomato. “You’re all children in my eyes anyway; don’t corrupt that image.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Can’t believe we were ever their age. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Mark sends him an unimpressed stare. “You’re literally only two years older than us. Only one and a few months when it comes to Lucas,” he points out dryly.

“That’s right,” Yuta chuckles, patronizingly patting Sicheng on the back. “You’re all young compared to me.”

In response, Sicheng jabs him in the waist. “And you’re only two years older than me,” he quips back.

“Ugh,” a disgusted voice cuts through the break room. Ten stands beneath the door, arms crossed and mouth twisted in a scowl at the sight before him. “I come here to escape Taeil-hyung and Doyoung’s weird note-passing mating ritual and all I find are more couples. Gross,” he huffs, pretending to gag as he grabs his lunch from the fridge.

“You’re just jealous because Johnny-hyung is no longer here!” Mark cheekily accuses.

“Watch your mouth, punk,” Ten scolds, poking the back of Mark’s head with his chopsticks. He frowns when he realizes there are no more empty seats, then zeroes in on his former intern and sweetly simpers, “I’m sure Jaemin wouldn’t mind if you sat on his lap, right?”

In the blink of an eye, Jeno’s now perched comfortably on Jaemin’s thighs, affectionately hugging his beloved boyfriend and rubbing his cheek against Jaemin’s hair like a cat.

“Works like a fucking charm,” Ten snorts, swooping in on Jeno’s now empty seat. He peers at Sicheng—who’s still leaning against Yuta—and says, “What’s up with you today? You look like death.”

“Why isn’t the week over yet?” Sicheng wonders despairingly, rolling his eyes all the way to the ceiling. “I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this bullshit,” he wails.

Yuta wraps an arm around Sicheng’s frame. “I’ll cook you your favorite tonight if it’ll make you feel better,” he offers gently.

“Oh fucking bless,” Sicheng mutters under his breath. Food may be a temporary solution to his problems, but it’s a nice solution nonetheless. 

Ten, however, isn’t quite so sympathetic. He narrows his eyes, visage more catlike that usual as the gears whir in his head. Finally, he snaps his fingers and declares, “Are you going into withdrawal because Sooyoung isn’t here to provide us with much-needed booze?”

“No,” Sicheng dismisses with a weak flap of his hand. _Booze would actually be great right about now, though._ “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Is it just him, or did Yuta stiffen just the tiniest bit? “And it doesn’t help that Chanyeol-hyung just emailed me saying our usual site for the summer retreat isn’t available so now we’ve got to find a new one on such short notice. Fun, fun.”

Mark, Lucas, Jeno, and Jaemin exchange confused glances. “Summer retreat?” Jaemin echoes, completely unbothered by the clingy Jeno taking up his lap—if anything, he looks quite smug and pleased with himself as he has an arm curled protectively around his precious boyfriend’s waist. 

“Yup,” Yuta nods. “It’s this tradition every June that’s sponsored by the company. The team goes out on a trip for bonding time. We basically just play games and take long walks, but knowing us it gets chaotic pretty fast. Great times.”

Sicheng facepalms. “Last year the three idiots pranked the rest of us by smearing peanut butter on our faces while we slept. Then Sooyoung dragged me and Taeil-hyung into her revenge plot of shaving off the sides of Ten’s hair and screwing up Seungwan-noona’s bangs,” he laments in horror. 

“And then Jongdae-hyung kicked the six of us out of the cabin and made us sleep outside,” Ten dramatically shakes his head.

“So all in all, a great trip,” Yuta finishes brightly. “One of the best we’ve ever had.”

Mark’s scandalized expression prompts a chuckle from Sicheng. “We won’t do anything to you, don’t worry,” he reassures. “After last year, Chanyeol-hyung implemented a strict no pranking policy. Normally we’d just ignore him because he doesn’t scare us, but Jongdae-hyung backed it up and no one dares screw with him.”

Then he remembers the current predicament surrounding the retreat and groans. “Although, who even knows if we can make the trip this year. Campsites usually need to be reserved months in advance and Chanyeol-hyung and I only have a few weeks to find a place.”

Suddenly, Ten’s eyes widen and his posture shoots arrow straight. “Wait,” he exclaims. “It doesn’t have to be like, an official campsite, right? We usually go somewhere in the mountains, so long as we’re on _a_ mountain that would be fine?”

Intrigued, Sicheng lifts his head off Yuta’s shoulder. “You know a place?” He demands eagerly. _God bless you, you Thai midget._

Ten smirks, practically purring as he laces his fingers together. “I just might. But there are two conditions, though.”

“Yeah? What are they?” Yuta asks, gesturing for Ten to continue.

“First, there’s only one cabin and there isn’t enough sleeping space for everyone inside so some people would have to camp out in tents outside.”

Sicheng shrugs. Easy enough. “That’s fine. We’ve done it before without complaint, so I don’t see how that’s a problem. So what’s the second condition?”

Ten’s lips curl even further. “Johnny-hyung gets to come along.”

_Subject: RE Urgent!!! Retreat plans in danger!!!_

_Chanyeol-hyung,_

_Thanks to Ten, I’ve managed to find a solution. Please check your inbox for an email with further details from him; it should be there by tonight._

_Dong Sicheng_

_Secretary of the Taeng &Co Seoul Branch_

_P.S. Please tell Jisung to stop clinging to my leg while I work. He’s too adorable and I keep getting distracted because I want to play with him._

_P.P.S. Never tell anyone I just said that._

_Subject: RE RE Urgent!!! Retreat plans in danger!!!_

_Dear Sicheng,_

_Ahhhhh thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver! Tell Ten I say thank you as well._

_Park Chanyeol_

_Regional Manager of the Taeng &Co Seoul Branch_

_P.S. Just let him sit in your lap instead._

_P.P.S. Said what? ;D_

Out of the corner of his eye, just barely in his peripheral vision, a bright light flashes and distracts him from organizing his calendar.

“ _What_ , hyung?” Sicheng demands through gritted teeth, careful not to disturb the child dozing off on his lap as he continues scribbling dates and appointments into his planner. “Would you like to say something to me?”

“Nope, not particularly,” Taeil replies easily, snickering as he snaps more photos in rapid succession. What kind of psycho turns on their flash in broad daylight? Moon Taeil, apparently. 

Sparing a quick glance down to make sure Jisung is still asleep, Sicheng tosses his planner aside and jerks his head in Taeil’s direction to glare at him. “Are you taking blackmail pictures?”

“Yup,” Taeil confirms without a trace of shame. “I told Sooyoung you’ve been awfully chummy with the kid, but she didn’t believe me so I told her I’d send pictures. I plan on using these against you whenever you try and claim you hate kids again.”

“I thought we’ve already been over this? I don’t really hate kids after all, hyung.”

“Oh, I know. Think of this as an insurance policy.”

“Do you realize how insufferable you are?”

“Oh, he definitely does,” Kim Doyoung chimes in as he enters the scene (without being invited, Sicheng privately grouses). He props his elbow on Taeil’s shoulder and peers at the shorter man’s phone, then guffaws. “Damn, that one’s a keeper. The look on Sicheng’s face is priceless.”

Taeil squints at his screen. “Indeed it is. He looks like a disgruntled duck.”

“A _duck_?” Sicheng squawks, instinctively clamping a hand over his nose to make sure it hasn’t turned into a bill. _Fuck you, Moon Taeil._

“A duck with a hamster,” Doyoung snorts.

Sicheng musters up the dirtiest glare possible, but neither Taeil nor Doyoung pay him any mind. “I liked it better when you two never interacted,” he sulks.

Doyoung flippantly waves a hand at him. “And I liked you better when you let me have your clothes.”

“Excuse me? I never let you have them, and I’ve been asking you to return them every day this week!”

“Wow, he’s adorable,” Doyoung simpers. To Taeil, he says, “You did a great job raising him, sweetie.”

“Wasn’t easy, but all my discipline paid off,” Taeil sighs wistfully.

_I’m literally speaking to a brick wall._ “Can you please leave me alone? I have stuff to do,” Sicheng pleads desperately.

Because they’re evil like that, the less-than-a-week-old couple (who are progressing at a disturbingly, absurdly quick pace) disregard him completely. “What’s your stance on children?” Taeil inquires.

“Eh,” Doyoung shrugs. “I don’t mind being around them, but I don’t think parenting’s for me.”

Satisfied, Taeil puffs out his chest. “Good. Another thing we have in common.”

_What the actual fuck is this conversation?_ Sicheng recalls Ten once saying that the best way to make Doyoung shut up was by throwing a stapler at his head and knocking him out. When Sicheng sarcastically asked about the success rate of said method, Ten merely winked and said it hadn’t been tested yet. Well, Sicheng decides, there’s a first for everything.

Just as Sicheng’s fingers curl around the the stapler, Doyoung straightens his posture and removes his elbow from Taeil’s frame. “Well, I have to go deal with the Internet connectivity problems on the twentieth floor. See ya later, hyung.”

“Mmhmm, have fun, honey,” Taeil doesn’t even glance up from his phone, yet hestill manages to slap Doyoung on the behind before the tech specialist leaves.

_I am about to lose my fucking mind_. “Can you please go back to your own desk too, hyung?” Sicheng asks with more force than intended.

Taeil stares down at him with disdain. “Fine, I see how it is. I already have what I came for, anyway,” he sniffs, childishly sticking his tongue out as he pivots on his heel and skips back to the customer relations cubicles.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , if he hurls the stapler…

“Plotting murder already? The day’s only just begun, Winko.”

As if charmed by Yuta’s light voice, Sicheng’s fingers instantly slacken their grip around the stapler. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Taeil-hyung go after Doyoung,” he grumbles, rolling his head against the back of his chair and wondering why, just _why_ , the week still isn’t over yet.

Yuta chortles, leaning against the corner of Sicheng's desk “You probably shouldn’t have. They’re a scarily perfect match for each other.”

“They’ll start the apocalypse,” Sicheng groans tiredly. He accidentally swivels around too fast, resulting in a disgruntled noise from Jisung. As Sicheng rubs Jisung’s back in apology, he gazes up at Yuta and says, “Did you need anything from me? Or are you just stopping by to say hi?”

“Both,” Yuta winks. He kneels on the carpet and reaches out to gently ruffle Jisung’s hair. Explains, “At first I thought I’d swoop in and save you from the two devils, but you managed to shoo them away yourself. And since I was already halfway here, I figured I may as well still say hi and hang out with Jisungie a bit since it’s his last day.”

“Oh my god, please take him,” Sicheng all but begs. “He’s adorable and everything, but my legs are falling asleep. Save me, hyung.”

With an ear-splitting grin, Yuta carefully hoists Jisung off Sicheng’s numb lap and cradles the now awake toddler to his chest. Jisung blinks rapidly at first, startled by the sudden change. Then, roughly five seconds later, he accepts his fate and rests his head against Yuta’s collarbone, eyes flickering shut as he dozes off again.

“What a cutie,” Yuta coos, tickling Jisung’s cheek with his index finger. Jisung scrunches his nose, but doesn’t show any sign of discomfort and lets him be. Yuta giggles a bit and forlornly murmurs, “I’m really going to miss this kid once he goes to daycare.”

“You’re only gonna miss him because he wasn’t tugging on your leg all week,” Sicheng laughs, fondly taking in the glorious sight before him.

Yuta’s always been a natural with kids. Maybe it’s his easygoing demeanor or his warm smile, but children flock to him like moths to a flame. He has a soft spot for cute things, and kids are one of his biggest weaknesses. Yuta would be a great dad. He’d probably coach soccer teams and wake up early every morning to pack lunches and enthusiastically help with homework even if he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing and—

_Wait._

_Don’t go there._

Sicheng busies himself with opening his drawer to find a pen and sticky notes, and when he closes it with a forceful push he pretends it’s the filing cabinet in his mind instead. 

“I have a meeting in a few, but I’ll drop this kiddo off with Lucas instead. Spare your poor legs,” Yuta jokes. He squeezes Sicheng’s shoulder and, in a softer voice, mumbles, “Are you okay?”

_Shit._ “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Sicheng titters the slightest bit nervously. Guilt gnaws at his insides for lying so easily when a simple, _We need to talk_ would be the first baby step to solving his—their—problems. 

Yuta tilts his head. “Just checking,” he shrugs evenly, tone not betraying any possible underlying emotion. “I’ll see you after my meeting, then.”

“Yeah,” Sicheng nods weakly. “Bye.”

Later, when he tries to open the same drawer to retrieve a different pen, he finds it jammed shut.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Mochisung,” Lucas bawls, clutching a stone-faced Jisung to his chest so tightly Sicheng fears the child might actually suffocate.

Mark gingerly places a hand on Lucas’s back. “You do realize that you’ll still see him sometimes, right? Chanyeol-hyung appointed you as first choice babysitter, remember?”

Lucas dramatically brushes his boyfriend’s hand away. “It’s not the same!” He cries in despair. Dear lord, his lower lip is even quivering and are those _tears_ in his eyes?

“Xuxi,” Sicheng cuts in flatly. “He’s going to daycare; he’s not about to die or anything.”

Lucas still isn’t swayed. “But who will I play with now? Who will I feed during lunch? Who will sit on my lap?”

All eyes turn to Mark.

“Oi!” he splutters, fanning his rapidly reddening face. “Not funny, guys!”

Chanyeol, who’s been patiently waiting for the others to finish saying goodbye to his son, laughs and ruffles Lucas’s hair. “Alright, I think it’s time Jwi and I headed off. Don’t worry though, Lucas—like Mark said, you’re still the first choice babysitter, and I can bring him in on some days. Deal?”

“Deal,” Lucas sniffs, reluctantly releasing Jisung from his tight hold. “You be a good boy now, okay, Mochisung?”

Jisung nods solemnly. “Yes, Uncle Lu,” he salutes—no doubt a habit picked up from Lucas.

At that, Lucas chokes on another sob. Mark holds back a sigh as he grabs Lucas by the arm and begins dragging him to the elevators. “C’mon, Xuxi. I’ll let you play video games all night if it makes you feel better,” he coaxes.

“I just lost my favorite child!”

“He isn’t even yours, for fuck’s sake!”

“How _dare_ you, Mark Lee!”

“Well,” Yuta whistles lowly as Mark and Lucas disappear inside the elevator. “I’d say that went pretty well.”

Chanyeol shakes his head in amusement. “Oh, for sure,” he agrees. Stooping down until he’s Jisung’s height, Chanyeol taps his son’s cheek and says, “Ready to go, Jwi?”

Jisung presses his fingers against Chanyeol’s palm. “Ready.”

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to your uncles, then,” Chanyeol reminds, gesturing to Sicheng and Yuta.

“Bye, Uncle Yu! Uncle Win!” Jisung waves as he and Chanyeol head for the elevators.

Sicheng waves back. “Damn, I really am gonna miss him,” he admits with a sigh.

“He certainly grew on us,” Yuta hums. He holds out a hand for Sicheng, says, “Home?”

Something about the way the word rolls off of his tongue sends a shiver down Sicheng’s spine—an uneasy or happy one, he’s not too sure. Whatever it is, he ignores it and takes Yuta’s hand in a silent agreement, not quite able to trust his voice at this moment.

He lets Yuta do all the talking during the drive home, content with simply listening to stories of rude customers and a staple-shooting competition with Ten. Yuta doesn’t seem to mind Sicheng’s silence as he carries the one-sided conversation and idly plays with Sicheng’s free hand.

Nothing about this dynamic is abnormal—Sicheng’s not nearly as talkative as Yuta, and they’re both well aware of this fact—but it certainly doesn’t feel right. As he only half-listens to Yuta’s dramatic retelling of running into Taeil and Doyoung right as they’re exiting the make out closet, Sicheng wonders when, how, and why they became like this—going through all the right steps of their usual dance, but as if they’re brand new partners rather than ones who’ve been learning the moves together for over two years.

_When_ : Since Sooyoung’s wedding. Or, no—since even before then, when Yuta suggested moving in together.

_How_ : Sicheng couldn’t bring himself to catch the bouquet.

_Why_ : Because he’s stupid. So, so, _so_ stupid. He loves Yuta, yet this is how he treats him?

_This ends tonight_ , Sicheng resolves, unconsciously tightening his grip around the steering wheel. _I don’t want to hurt him any more._

He pulls into their usual parking spot and shuts the engine off, steeling himself for what’s to come. It’s bound to be messy and maybe they’ll both say some words they don’t mean, but Sicheng needs to have this conversation right now—they both need to have it before things escalate too far out of control.

“Hyung,” he starts, then pauses to nervously clear his throat. Timidly, he faces Yuta and tries again. “Hyung, there’s something I have to—”

“Huh,” Yuta frowns, deeply engrossed in something on his phone. “That’s strange.”

Relief and disappointment simultaneously wash through Sicheng’s mind. _Be patient,_ he scolds himself. _There’s no rush, but this still ends tonight._

He rests his chin on Yuta’s shoulder and peers at the phone. “What’s strange?” Sicheng inquires, the smallest bit intrigued at whatever Yuta finds so baffling.

Yuta angles the screen up a bit to let him have a better look. He’s got it opened to his KaKaoTalk, displaying a message from a “JenJenJenNoJam” (Yuta likes to give all of his contacts affectionate nicknames, with Sicheng’s own being “Winko-Winko” followed by about ten hearts. No matter how much Sicheng begs, Yuta refuses to switch it to something more practical, claiming it’s too cute to be changed).

_JenJenJenNoJam: Hyung!!! SOS—Nana and I need yours and Sicheng-hyung’s help ASAP! We’re still stranded at the office right now but really need you to drive us somewhere :’( Could you please pick us up??? We’d be forever indebted to you!!! °_°_

“Um…” Sicheng trails off, forehead wrinkled in thought. Any thoughts of a confrontation fade to the back of his mind as he reads and rereads Jeno’s bizarre, emoticon-filled message. “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“Nope,” Yuta agrees, tone equally perplexed. “Not. One. Bit.”

For a solid twenty seconds, they stare down at Jeno’s odd text in silence. Sicheng considers attempting to decipher it, only to brush that thought away almost immediately. He doesn’t know Jeno as well as the others in sales, and the kid’s language is way too vague. Is he actually in trouble? How serious of an SOS is this? Why on earth is the young couple still at the office? Don’t they usually take the subway? What the actual hell is going on? Why is Jeno dragging them into it when there are so many other coworkers with cars he could choose from? 

At last, Yuta clears his throat and states rather than asks, “You’re curious, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Sicheng concurs without hesitation. “Absolutely dying.”

“I’m telling him we’ll be there in twenty.”

“Sounds good.”

_Qian Kun to Dong Sicheng_

_Qian Kun: Sicheng, why haven’t you called me yet? Or at least updated me somehow?_

_Qian Kun: Look, I know it’s probably hard for me to understand what’s going because I’m in a different country and I don’t know any of the people in your stories, but I’m still here for you._

_Qian Kun: I’m betting you already have enough on your plate, which is why you haven’t said anything to me, right? I believe it—you’re not avoiding me on purpose, you just genuinely have too much on your mind. And that’s okay, that’s completely normal. I won’t stress you out by forcing you to tell me, but I really, really, REALLY am concerned for you._

_Qian Kun: At least let me know if you’ve fixed whatever you’ve fucked up, goddammit._

_Qian Kun: Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore, and that makes me wish you never left._

_Qian Kun deleted five messages_

_Qian Kun: Whoops, sorry! I meant to send those messages to one of my cooks hahaha._

When Sicheng pulls up to the curb by the Taeng&Co front entrance, Jeno and Jaemin are already waiting on the sidewalk, hand-in-hand and donning casual clothes—a fluffy pink sweater for Jaemin and a somewhat dorky graphic T-shirt for Jeno, with matching couple ripped jeans because of course they would. Jeno brightens up when he notices them, eagerly pulling Jaemin forward to the car.

“Hiya, hyungs!” Jeno smiles in his usual endearing way. He clambers into the backseat, chirps, “Thanks so much for picking us up on such short notice!”

“You’re welco—” Yuta starts to say, only to be interrupted by Sicheng’s deadpanned statement of, “Cut the crap, kid. What’d you call us out here for?”

Instead of looking taken aback, sheepish, or any emotion that shows some sort of remorse, the couple merely glance at each other and burst into giggles. “I knew Sicheng-hyung would say that,” Jaemin whispers loudly, body shaking from his devious snickers.

“Our favorite tsundere hyung,” Jeno agrees with glee.

Sicheng, who has zero tolerance for such cryptic behavior from two little devils in disguise as angels, rolls his eyes and resists the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. “Just tell me where your apartments are so I can drive you home already,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“Oh, we’re not going home, hyung,” Jeno corrects cheerfully, wide eyes innocently peering at him like a puppy ( _a Samoyed puppy,_ Sicheng’s brain helpfully supplies).

_Curse this kid for being so goddamned cute._

“Why aren’t you going home?” Yuta questions, squinting at the pair in the back seat. “And why did you change clothes? Did you _plan_ this?”

“Nope!” The couple beam in sync. _Those little shits_.

Is it too late to boot them from his car? Because Sicheng doesn’t know how much longer he can deal with the incessant kids. “Can you at least tell me where you’re going, then?” He demands.

Jaemin offers him a positively angelic smile. “Just drive and we’ll give you directions!” He orders gleefully.

_This punk needs to be taught a lesson_. “Fine,” Sicheng grumbles, reluctantly starting the engine and maneuvering back onto the road. “Whatever you say, _boss._ ”

Beside him, Yuta stifles a laugh and reaches for Sicheng’s right hand. “Behave; they’re just cute children,” he chides, absently running his thumb over the back of Sicheng’s hand.

Purposefully ignoring the way his heart stutters, Sicheng rolls his eyes and proclaims, “They’re not children anymore and they certainly aren’t cute.”

“Hey, we’re adorable!” Jeno protests, pouting like he’s four and not twenty-four.

That they are, but Sicheng refuses to admit it out loud. “Just tell me where to go!” He barks.

The couple in the backseat merely burst into a fit of giggles again.

Half an hour later, after following Jaemin’s instructions, they pull up to a spot in a brightly lit parking lot. Squinting at the building in front of them, Sicheng can just barely make out the words displayed in neon lights, and it only serves to make him even more confused.

“A bowling alley?” He demands incredulously, craning his neck so he can shoot a skeptical expression at the younger couple. “You made us pick you up just so we could drive you to a goddamn bowling alley?”

Jeno’s grin is so wide his eyes curve into crescent moons. “Surprise!” He shouts, busy unbuckling his seatbelt (and then Jaemin’s too, for some reason) and prying open the car door.

“Um, okay?” Yuta raises a brow, clearly more amused than annoyed because he has more patience in his pinky than Sicheng’s got in his whole body. “But why couldn’t you take a bus? This place is pretty close to the office, no?”

“Don’t be silly!” Jaemin chastises, flippantly waving his hand around. “You’re coming with us!”

Sicheng blinks. “Say what?” He states blankly, wondering just what the hell he’s gotten himself into—or rather, what the hell _Yuta’s_ gotten them into. “And why would we do that when we could go home?”

Solemnly, Jaemin reaches over and places one hand on Sicheng’s shoulder and the other on Yuta’s. “Because they give a better discount for parties of four than two,” he explains with utmost seriousness, eyes widened not unlike a creepy owl.

“We usually come here with Mark-hyung and Lucas-hyung, but they’re busy today so we needed to find a replacement,” Jeno adds. He innocently tilts to his head to the side and remarks, “Hope you don’t mind, hyungs. We just wanted to have some fun and thought you would, too.”

Internally, Sicheng curses. Screw Lee Jeno and his adorable puppy dog eyes—that kid knows _exactly_ how powerful those stupid eyes of his are, and he never fails to use them to his advantage. Only the most soulless of the damned could resist those eyes, and even then they’d cry if they had to say no.

Yuta squeezes his hand sympathetically. “It wouldn’t hurt,” he suggests. “I could do with something fun, and we don’t even have to stay that long if you don’t want to.”

Maybe it’s because the lighting’s poor or those neon flashes are disorienting, but something about the lines of Yuta’s face and the set to his mouth and eyes makes him look almost _hopeful_. He’s never been that interested in bowling before, but he’s never appeared more eager to do something than right now. It suddenly hits Sicheng that Yuta is seeking out either a stress reliever or a momentary distraction—which one, Sicheng doesn’t know, but there is one thing he does know for sure.

_You’re the reason why._

The hand intertwined with his suddenly feels like a shackle. Swallowing, Sicheng murmurs a quiet, “Okay,” and removes his keys, letting go of Yuta’s hand. “Let’s play, then.”

He plasters a smile across his face as the youngest two clap in excitement and scramble out of the car. Jeno and Jaemin, he muses as he watches them run hand in hand through the parking lot despite Yuta’s cries to be careful, really are something. Sicheng still remembers the first time he met them when they started their internships on the same day as bright-eyed, fresh out of college graduates. Of course everyone had noticed Jeno’s fairly obvious crush on Jaemin from the start, but Jaemin was the only one who didn’t seem to know—or, if Sicheng had to guess, he only pretended not to be aware because flustering Jeno brought him great amusement.

They’ve been together for what, six months now? Judging by by the way they cling to each other and look at each other with hearts in their eyes, they’re still very much in the honeymoon phase. That, or they’re so ridiculously in love that all they can feel is happiness when they’re together. Either way, it must feel nice.

_Stop_ , he scolds himself. _You’re not being fair._

Jeno and Jaemin must be regulars, because all they need to do is show a pass and the worker immediately hands them bowling shoes in their size. After Sicheng and Yuta are fitted and ready, Jeno leads to way to the last two lanes in the corner, a spring in his step as he skips ahead of the others.

“He really likes bowling,” Jaemin supplies helpfully, watching his boyfriend with an exasperated yet fond gleam in his eyes. “We try to keep our inner children alive by doing things like this. PC Bang on Monday, arcade on Wednesday, and bowling on Friday is the way to go.”

“You’re still children after all,” Yuta teases, throwing an arm around Jaemin’s shoulder and aggressively ruffling his hair. “Children who need adult supervision at all times, otherwise they’ll get into too much trouble.”

Jaemin snorts. “Oh really? Guess you wouldn’t want to hear the types of things we get up to at—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Sicheng decides, taking a page out of Mark’s book and slapping his hand over Jaemin’s mouth to shut him up. With a shudder, he adds, “I’d like to keep my vision of the two of you pristine, thank you very much.”

“Hey, you’re the one with your mind in the gutter!” Jaemin argues, voice muffled. “How do you know I wasn’t gonna say what we get up to at church, huh?”

“Because you’ve never set foot in a church in your life,” Yuta counters.

“Hmph.”

“What’s taking you so long? Hurry up already!” Jeno calls, impatiently tapping his foot as he waits for the three lagging behind.

Jaemin manages to rip himself out of Yuta’s grip and dashes over to his darling boyfriend. “Coming, Jen!” He coos, hurtling towards Jeno’s waiting arms.

“Literally how the fuck do they have so much energy,” Sicheng groans, wearily rubbing at his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I was already dead inside by the time I was their age. College really did a number on me, and adulthood hasn’t been pretty, either.”

Yuta hums, bumping their shoulders as they walk. “I mean, have you _seen_ Jaemin’s coffee order? There’s enough caffeine in there to get passed over to Jeno whenever they make out.”

Sicheng scrunches his nose. “That’s true, but I also didn’t need imagery of the children making out. Thanks a lot for scarring me, hyung.”

For the briefest of seconds, the backs of Yuta’s fingers brush against his. “That’s what I’m here for, Win,” he teases lightly, bumping their shoulders again before retreating and jogging over to the younger couple.

_It’s okay,_ Sicheng convinces himself as he watches Yuta’s back. _Everything is fine. No rush._

Deep down, he wonders how much longer he’ll have to keep lying to himself until he faces the truth.

_Qian Kun to Dong Sicheng_

_Qian Kun: Hey, I really don’t want to pressure or stress you or anything, but can you call me tomorrow morning? There’s something I really need to talk to you about._

Despite his initial grievances, he actually has a pretty great time. It’s been years since he last bowled and Yuta isn’t too hot at it either, but even though they look like fools compared to the much more passionate Jeno and Jaemin, playing with them is a lot of fun. From Jeno’s unexpected happy dance whenever he gets a strike to Yuta’s indignant claims that the floor is sabotaging him by making him lose balance and slip (seriously, who blames the floor for falling? Sore losers, that’s whom) to Jaemin’s obnoxious yet somehow still cute cackling whenever someone sends a ball straight down the gutter, Sicheng finds himself laughing more than he has in weeks as the tension practically melts from his shoulders.

Yuta seems to be enjoying himself, too. He’s only slightly better than Sicheng, but his natural athleticism and competitiveness gives him a boost as he manages to consistently knock down a decent number of pins. Occasionally, when he scores a strike, his face will break out into his trademark perfect beam and he’ll rush over to capture Sicheng in a bear hug in celebration.

After a rousing round of “Sales VS Miscellaneous” (the former’s branding, not the latter’s) in which Yuta and Jeno emerge victorious (to absolutely no one’s surprise, because Sicheng truly is shit at bowling and would be a liability to even the best of players), Jaemin’s stomach growls loudly. Because he’s a doting, whipped boyfriend, Jeno immediately volunteers to grab some dinner at the snack counter and Yuta offers to help—and even pay!—because he’s so damn nice like that.

“Don’t forget my coffee!” Jaemin calls, cupping his hands around his mouth so the retreating figures can hear him (he really didn’t have to do that because his voice is already pretty loud, but okay then). 

Sicheng can’t help but rolls his eyes as he flops down on the bench. “Your caffeine addiction is gonna kill you one of these days,” he comments wryly.

“Then I’ll die a delicious death,” Jaemin shoots back without missing a beat.

“I’ve seen your order before and it looks far from delicious.”

“You’re just not strong enough to handle the bitterness, hyung.”

With another exasperated eye roll, Sicheng lazily kicks at Jaemin’s shin. “Have some more respect when you talk to your elders, kid.”

Jaemin salutes, albeit quite sassily. “Sir, yes sir.”

Yuta and Jeno are definitely out of earshot now and it looks like it’ll take a while before their food is ready, so Sicheng figures now is as good a time as any to have a proper confrontation.

“Jaemin,” he says, making sure to keep his voice even. “Why did you really drag us out here?”

Instead of vehemently denying any hidden motives or playing dumb, Jaemin merely cocks his head to the side. In an equally calm tone, he replies, “What gave it away?”

Sicheng shrugs, unconsciously wringing his hands together. “It all felt pretty suspicious,” he points out quietly. “Mark and Lucas aren’t busy today—I know that because Lucas was complaining about having nothing to do after work and Mark told him he could play video games the rest of the night. You could’ve chosen any other pair but you singled us out instead? And the whole discount for four people thing is obviously bullshit—I’m guessing you guys prepaid ahead of time so we wouldn’t see how much it really costs, huh?”

Jaemin’s laugh is light and a little mischievous, just like an imp’s. “You’re pretty observant, hyung.”

The first time Sicheng met Na Jaemin, he’d quickly dismissed the then accounting intern as just some bubbly college graduate with a penchant for flirting. And while his first impression wasn’t exactly _wrong_ , per se, it only covered one part of the truth.

Most people assumed Jeno was intimidating or intense because of his handsome looks and strong work ethic. Sicheng’s overheard plenty of elevator conversations between female interns from other floors, all whining that Lee Jeno would turn them down in a heartbeat because he was too high above their leagues. Yes, Jeno would’ve turned them all down, but not because he was tough or cold or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact—Yuta, who’s much closer to Jeno than Sicheng is, often describes the young salesman as a big, overgrown puppy. Jeno’s always been soft despite his more serious appearance; he’s open and honest when it comes to expressing his feelings—especially love and adoration—for others, even if he’s a little shy about it and acts embarrassed after doing so. His eyes aren’t exactly doe-like, but there’s an innocence to them that’s not too unlike a child’s. When someone praises him he turns pink and squirms timidly, and he still gets a little bashful whenever he clings to Jaemin. He’s _happy—_ with his job, the people around him, and life in general. 

Jaemin, on the other hand, is a bit more of a mystery. If one were to take a quick look at him they’d notice the soft contours of his face, fluffy hair, toothy grin, and the simpering, flirtatious way he speaks. They wouldn’t notice how, even when he appears to burst into an angry fit over the coffee pot not being warm, his eyes are mildly entertained and his body language lax. They wouldn’t notice how his coquettish tone often carries an underlying weight of snark and thinly veiled jabs. How even though he’s quick to initiate skinship, he only accepts it in return from a select few. How he looks like an angel yet has a mind more devious than anyone else’s. 

So yes, Jaemin _is_ bubbly and flirtatious and adorable and charming and about a million other synonyms for cute, but he’s also the most chill and unaffected little devil to ever exist. If he wanted to rob a bank, he’d simply have to smile and the money would be handed over to him in a heartbeat. He’s not some airheaded flower boy; he’s much sharper than most would assume, and it’s a good thing he’s a genuinely nice person because Sicheng has a feeling Jaemin could be a damn good serial killer.

That’s why it doesn’t surprise him that Jeno and Jaemin must have had some ulterior motive, nor that Jaemin already knew Sicheng knew; despite being a fluffy, clingy couple, those two are both much more than what meets the eye.

Jaemin casts a glance over to where Yuta and Jeno patiently wait for their food. Fondness clouds his expression as he delicately says, “Jeno’s been worried about Yuta-hyung. He says there’s been something off about hyung for a couple weeks now, but he was worried about potentially overstepping some boundaries by directly asking him what was wrong.”

Sicheng’s mouth runs dry. “So this was all a ploy to make him feel better?”

“Well, duh,” Jaemin shrugs, unaffected. Casually, he examines his nails and says, “And it’s working, no?”

_What a little shit._ “Yeah,” he agrees, slumping lower in his seat and resting his head against the wall. “Guess I owe you guys one,” he comments, unable to hide the smallest trace of bitterness in his voice. How is it that two coworkers who only know Yuta from the office are able to cheer him up while Sicheng can’t? Is he just that bad of a boyfriend?

Would Yuta be better off without him?

_Stop. Don't go there._

Jaemin’s staring at him with an unreadable gaze, eyes boring unsettlingly into Sicheng’s skull. The corners of his lips tug upwards, but not in his usually cute way. “You’re fighting with Yuta-hyung, aren’t you? Or at the very least, there’s something going on but neither of you are talking about it, right?” Jaemin comments casually.

Invisible hands circle around Sicheng’s throat, crushing his windpipe in a warning. “What gave it away?” He questions hoarsely, echoing Jaemin’s words from earlier.

“Educated guess,” Jaemin shrugs, a small grin flickering across his lips.

Sicheng opens his mouth to blindly insist that he’s got everything under control (a lie), but Jaemin cuts him off by holding up a hand. “With all due respect, hyung, I won’t ask and I don’t want to know what’s going on because this is something between you and Yuta-hyung. It’s none of my business, so it’s better that I don’t get involved,” he states coolly.

“But,” Jaemin carries on, smoothing the front of his pink sweater and flicking off a few pieces of lint. “Whatever’s going on, you definitely want to talk it out as soon as possible. It’s not healthy to skirt around each other, trust me.”

“ _Trust me”?_ “Have you ever…” Sicheng trails off, quickly checking to make sure Yuta and Jeno are still waiting by the counter. He coughs and tries again, says, “Have you and Jeno ever been in a fight that, at the same time, isn’t really a fight? Like, you’re both just waiting for the other to bring it up first, but neither of you do and then it’s just kind of awkward even though you’re trying your best to act normal?”

Jaemin ponders that for a moment, then inclines his head. “We’re a couple, hyung; of course that’s happened before. Just because we’re whipped for each other doesn’t mean we can’t fight, too,” he points out wisely. “I mean, granted, we haven’t had any big, serious fights yet, but sometimes you just gotta banish the other to the couch for a night until you’ve cooled down, and then in the morning it’s much easier to talk it through. We just try not to drag it out for too long though, y’know? That’s how things get worse and worse.”

“You’re right,” Sicheng sighs. He presses the back of his hand to his temple and squeezes his eyes shut, mind swimming with far too many thoughts. _Talk to Yuta. Don’t talk to him, it’s too scary. Talk to him before it’s too late. Don’t talk to him, it’ll go away eventually._

_Stop hurting him._

_Jaemin’s right; this has already been dragged out for too long. I already screwed up by not taking Taeil’s advice on Sunday; I’ve got to do something before it’s too late. We’re already so far past the point of one of us sleeping on the couch and reconciling the next morning._

_Wait._

_Hold up._

Sicheng cracks open an eye. “Did you just say that you and Jeno live together?”

Jaemin doesn’t even blink. “Oh, yeah. For around a month and a half now,” he responds as casually as if he were talking about the weather.

_What in the…_ “Haven’t you been together for like…six months? Isn’t that moving a bit fast?” Sicheng can’t help but point out, utterly baffled at the prospect of the relatively new couple in their mid twenties already having moved in together.

“Technically it’s seven. We had a deal with Johnny-hyung to rig the bet and—ahh, that’s not important. As for moving too fast, well,” Jaemin takes a moment to fiddle with one of the rips in his jeans, then carefully speaks up again. “It wasn’t really intentional, to be honest. Jeno was in hot water with his landlord because he got caught keeping three cats in his apartment even though there’s a strict no pets policy, and he was sad because he didn’t want to let them go but he also couldn’t afford to break contract and find a new place. So he left them at my place for a while and then Renjun, my roommate at the time, came up with the idea of swapping places. Renjun already wanted his own apartment anyway but never had the time to look for one, and our place allowed pets so Jeno wouldn’t have to choose between his cats and a place to live. They figured a swap would be the easiest solution for all parties involved, so Renjun moved out and Jeno moved in. And, well, it’s been working so far.”

Jaemin’s eyes and voice soften as he says, “Admittedly I also thought we were rushing into it at first, too. It wasn’t either of our ideas and it was a choice mostly made out of convenience, so I thought maybe it would screw with our relationship if we weren’t careful enough. But for the most part, I think Jeno and I are both self-aware enough to know how to handle it. We kind of think of each other as roommates who happen to boyfriends, not boyfriends who live together, if that makes any sense. I don’t know, it helps put less pressure on us to see it that way. Besides, it’s not like I already asked him to marry me or anything—nothing about us has changed; we’re just around each other a lot more than before. We’re happy and in love and figuring things out as they go, and that’s the most important part.”

_Damn_ , is all Sicheng can think as he stares incredulously at the boy across from him. _That was…something._

Jaemin’s cheeks are flushed pink as he ducks his head. “Sorry for rambling so much,” he mumbles, embarrassed for once in his life. “God, that was probably so mushy. Jeno would probably cry because he’s so touched if he knows I said all that—you won’t tell him, right?”

“My lips are sealed,” Sicheng promises, even going as far as making a zipping motion over his mouth. 

Jaemin sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. He looks like he still has something he wants to say, but then he catches sight of something behind Sicheng. “Jenooo!” Jaemin calls, shooting out of his seat and rushing over to swipe his iced Americano of death from his beloved Jeno. “I love you! You’re the best, Jen!”

Jeno smiles proudly. “I love you too, Nana!” He coos in return.

Yuta sidesteps the sickeningly adorable couple and sets down a tray of food on the table. “Better eat up, Sichengie—I’m about to kick your ass next round,” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes as he tosses a bottle of water at Sicheng.

“You’re on,” Sicheng grins in return.

Not only does he lose the next round, but all the ones that follow. Even when he’s partnered with Jeno, who’s by far the best bowler, their team loses miserably. Sicheng claims it’s because his skills are rusty, but Yuta disagrees and says it’s because he just sucks. Jeno and Jaemin vehemently support this theory, which, _harsh_ , but not entirely untrue.

Somehow, they end up staying at the alley until closing time. It’s a bit too late for public transportation, so Sicheng offers to drive Jeno and Jaemin home. Jeno falls asleep during the ride, head rested on Jaemin’s shoulder. The latter doesn’t seem to mind at all, even keeping his posture in a rather stiff position for the sake of Jeno’s comfort. After dropping them off, reality floods back to Sicheng like a hurricane.

The night still isn’t over yet. He said he was going to put an end to this awkward tension tonight, and there’s still time.

So the second they get home, Sicheng grabs Yuta’s elbow before the latter can disappear to the shower and quietly, almost inaudibly, insists, “Hyung, we need to talk.”

Surprise flickers across Yuta’s face, only to be replaced with a grim, uneasy sort of determination. “Yeah, we do,” he assents with a mirthless grin.

Step one, check. Now onto the hard part.

Sicheng brushes past him, leading Yuta to the living room. Gingerly, he takes a seat and starts fiddling with his tie. He never got a chance to change since Yuta received the text right as they parked, and now his tie feels suffocating. 

“So,” Sicheng says, not quite able to meet Yuta’s eyes. When he sneaks a look at the other, Yuta’s got his own gaze trained on some microscopic stain on the coffee table. “I think I should start this off by saying I truly am sorry about some of the things I’ve done recently. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you so coldly about moving in together, and I don’t even know where to begin explaining what was going through my mind when Sooyoung threw the bouquet, but what I did was…well, you had every right to feel upset with me.”

“I know people usually say this as a joke, but I think I really am a commitaphobe. I don’t even know why I am because I’ve never had or witnessed any like, traumatic relationships, but I think it boils down to me just overthinking and being stupid about everything.”

A surge of courage through his veins motivates Sicheng to reach out and cover Yuta’s hand with his. “I love you,” he reminds, offering Yuta his tenderest, realest smile. “Even when I’m being stupid by running away from my problems, I still love you. I’ve told you this so many times before, but you really are one of the best things that’s ever happened to me and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Exhaling, he finishes with a resounding, “So let’s do it, hyung. Let’s move in together for real. I think it’s worth a shot.”

_You did it. You finally talked things through. Holy shit, Dong Sicheng, you really did it._

And then Yuta lifts his head and meets his gaze, and any sense of achievement dies. Because Sicheng has never, _never_ , seen that look on Yuta’s face before.

Defeat.

“Sicheng,” Yuta speaks up, zero emotion whatsoever in his voice. “Do you really think that’s what this is about?”

Whichever way he’d imagined this conversation to go, _this_ certainly wasn’t one of them. “What do you mean?” Sicheng tilts his head, confused. “ _Isn’t_ this what it’s been about this whole time? Aren’t you the one you wanted me to move in in the first place?”

Yuta slips his hand out of Sicheng’s grip. “That’s not all of it.”

Sicheng frowns. “Then what else are you talking about? The bouquet? What else am I supposed to say? I know what I did was hurtful and believe me, I really wish I hadn’t done that, but it’s just some stupid tradition that doesn’t actually mean anything and—”

“A stupid tradition,” Yuta repeats blankly. He inhales, mutters, “Right.”

Confrontation has never been Sicheng’s strong suit, and considering this is his first serious fight in his first and only serious relationship, he feels utterly lost as he tries to navigate his way through a sea of uncertainty. What is he supposed to do now that the conversation’s taken a wrong turn? Try again? Keep suggesting possible reasons until he gets it right? Beg? Ignore it completely and just go to bed?

But wait, why is _he_ the only one struggling here? He already poured out his heart and gave a long explanation and apology for his actions; what gives Yuta, who’s being nothing but cryptic and unmoving, the right to be the upset one? Why isn’t Yuta trying to fix anything or at least be helpful?

Irritation boils in his blood. “What’s wrong with you?” Sicheng snaps, balling his hands on his lap into fists. “First you want me to move in, and now that I’ve said I want to, you’re all of a sudden not into it? You say I don’t have anything to be sorry for, and now you’re doing nothing but making me feel even shittier than I already do? Stop being so hot and cold with me, hyung.”

He must have flipped some kind of switch with that last statement, because Yuta jumps off the couch and starts pacing around the living room. A bitter laugh croaks out of Yuta’s throat as he retorts, “ _I’m_ the one being hot and cold? Fine, I am, but why don’t you take a look in the mirror, Sicheng? That way you’ll see who’s really been hot and cold all this time.”

_Stay calm; he doesn’t mean it, his emotions are just getting to him._ “Excuse me?” Sicheng demands, fighting back a sob. “So this is all my fault, then? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Stop making yourself out to be the victim,” Yuta counters tauntingly. “You’ve been like this ever since we got together. It’s always, ‘oh, I’m just not good at commitment’ or ‘I may not act like it but I really do love you’—you keep insisting that both of those are true and I do believe you, but sometimes I don’t know if I still can.”

The worst about all this, Sicheng muses, is that Yuta hasn’t raised his voice once, and that makes it sting even more. It would be better if Yuta were angry, because at least Sicheng would know that it’s just the tension getting to him. But when he speaks in that expressionless, level tone, reality hits Sicheng like a train. This isn’t some heat of the moment accusation that, while hurtful, can be easily forgiven. These are all of Yuta’s suppressed thoughts and troubles, finally out in the air after god knows how long.

Yuta drags a hand through his hair and comes to a halt behind the couch. “You always tell me you’re sorry and you love me, but why do you keep pushing me away? It’s like you’re saying, ‘Don’t give up on me’, but at the same time 'Give up on me' after all. Which is it, then? Just choose one, goddammit.”

“I love you, Sicheng. Just like what you always say to me, you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. You really are, and that’s why I want to be patient with you. I know you’re not good at commitment and I want to respect that, so I try and give you space. It’s okay that you’re not ready to get rid of your apartment, I get it. Moving in’s a big step and I understand if you’re not ready, and the last thing I want to do is pressure you in to a decision you don’t feel confident about.”

“But at the same time…I keep getting this horrible feeling in the back of my mind telling me that you’re just waiting for the first chance to run away. Like if I make one wrong step, it’ll be too much and you’ll push me away even harder. And it’s so tiring to have to walk around you like that, Sicheng. Sometimes I just want to say ‘Fuck it’ and act without having to plan my every step ahead of time, and then I can’t bring myself to do it because I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”

“You make me so happy,” Yuta confesses in a whisper. “But sometimes, you also make me so sad.”

The last time Sicheng had a boyfriend was from senior year, during the height of second semester boredom. He’d been a year younger, with an infectious personality that even cold Sicheng had been drawn to. They met at a party Guanheng and Dejun dragged Sicheng to, hooked up, and the next morning he asked Sicheng out. Sicheng hadn’t felt any big, magnetic attraction to the guy, but he was nice enough so Sicheng figured, why not?

They lasted for a little under five months. Sicheng liked the guy, he really did; he just didn’t want to deal with juggling having a boyfriend still in college and living his own independent adult life. In the days leading up to graduation, Sicheng promptly broke up with him, citing his entrance into the workforce as the main reason. His boyfriend didn’t exactly take the news well. He cried, grasping at Sicheng’s shirt and begging for him to reconsider. “Don’t you like me?” He’d pled through his tears. “Why are you giving up on us already? Please give us a chance.”

_Us,_ he kept saying. Not _me_ , but _us._

The scary part is that for a brief, fleeting moment, as his about to be ex-boyfriend sobbed before him, Sicheng wanted to say yes. He wanted to continue the relationship because at that point, he’d never met anyone he liked quite as much. He was even planning on staying in Shanghai; maintaining a relationship would have been easy if they both wanted to do it.

But then the moment passed and he forced himself to face reality. “I’m sorry,” Sicheng had uttered. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He’s never quite forgotten the look of betrayal in his ex-boyfriend’s eyes. Because the truth is, they could have been something more. In another world, had Sicheng been a little braver, he could have seen a future for them. But he wasn’t brave enough, and he chose to sabotage himself by putting an end to a promising relationship before it got too serious. Sicheng was a coward then, and he’s still one now, too.

On the day of his graduation, his ex found him in the crowd and hugged him as a friend. The last words he ever said to Sicheng were, “I hope you’ll find someone who makes you happy.” 

And that’s just it: Sicheng _did_ find that someone all these years later. He found that someone in the form of Nakamoto Yuta with his perfect smile, and now history must be repeating itself because Sicheng’s just fucked up again.

_But sometimes, you also make me so sad._

God, what has he done?

Yuta heaves a loud sigh. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but Sicheng doesn’t even know why because what does he have to be sorry for?

A hand touches the back of his neck, but Sicheng flinches away from the touch. “I-I-I should go,” Sicheng sputters, leaping up to his feet and hating himself for every word but unable to stop now that he’s started. “I’ll crash somewhere else tonight and give you some space. I don’t…I don’t want us to say anything we might regret.”

_Ask me to stay. Tell me it’s okay and we can work this out. Don’t let me walk away. Just say the words and I’ll do it. I_ love _you._

“Okay,” Yuta yields, voice hushed. “You’re right. I think we need some space for now.”

“Yeah. Space,” Sicheng echoes bleakly. _Why aren’t you asking me to stay?_ A spike of fear strikes him in the heart. Panicked, he blurts out, “This isn’t a break up, right?”

Yuta’s head snaps up, eyes wide and mouth parted. “No, no, no,” he insists hurriedly. “No, of course not.”

“Then it’s not a break, either?” Sicheng presses on. He doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, he _needs_ to know. “We’re not putting us on hold? We’re still together, just taking some time to figure out what we want?”

“Yes,” Yuta agrees. He opens his mouth to say more, then thinks better of it and smiles sadly instead. Promises, “We’re still good. We just need to be a little more honest. Both of us do.”

Sicheng breathes in relief. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” Yuta murmurs, and Sicheng can hear the forgiveness in his voice. “Text me when you’ve found a place to stay, okay?”

“I will,” Sicheng promises. 

His resolve lasts for as long as it takes him to shove a few changes of clothes into a duffel bag, snag his keys, and rush out the door. On the way, Yuta reaches out as if to touch him on the arm, but Sicheng ducks away without meeting his gaze.

Once he’s thrown his bag on the passenger seat and is situated behind the wheel, however, that’s when he breaks. For the first time in he doesn’t even know how long, Sicheng cries. Ugly, painful, tears stream down his cheeks faster than he can wipe them away, and at some point he stops trying entirely and just rests his forehead against the steering wheel, too full of hatred for himself to care.

He’s done it again. He’s fucking done it again, and the worst part is that he tried so hard not to yet he’s found himself in the same place all over again. _Old habits die hard,_ he thinks bitterly. _And you haven’t changed one fucking bit._

What kind of person pushes away the one they love because they’re too afraid of reality?

_Only a fucking fool._

Where does he even go from here? Sicheng can’t bring himself to face Taeil, and Sooyoung’s out of the country. Chanyeol has enough on his plate. Ten and Seungwan are definitely not options, andhe doesn’t really know anyone else in the office well enough to show up on their doorstep in his current state. Jeno and Jaemin would be nice enough to take him in, but after everything they’ve done for him tonight Sicheng would only feel bad intruding. The last place he wants to be right now is at his cold, barren apartment because every second there would only remind him of how alone he is and how much he fucked up.

With no other choice, Sicheng pulls out his phone, scrolls through his contacts until he finds someone he thought he’d never see again, and makes a call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	6. being homeless and sad is pretty much hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the chapter title, this chapter has a lot of crack. The rest isn't exactly happy, but I tried. I really tried.
> 
> Also edit: I feel like every time I mention Sicheng’s age he’s a different year, but he’s definitely supposed to be 26 (turning 27 but his birthday is in October). I think I made him 24 in the first chapter but honestly I’m terrible at consistency so if you see any 25s or 27s floating around just ignore it, please.

A glass of milk slides across the table, coming to a halt before him. 

“Drink,” Baekhyun smiles encouragingly, raising his own nightcap in cheers. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

Sicheng wraps his fingers around the cup, pleasantly surprised by the warmth. “I’m not a kid, you know,” he mumbles in a lame attempt at playfulness.

“Yeah, right,” Baekhyun laughs. “You’re what, twenty-seven? Anyone in their twenties is still a fetus as far as I’m concerned.”

“Twenty-six, actually. I have a late birthday”

Baekhyun flippantly waves a hand in the air. Tuts, “That just proves my point even more. Now drink your milk, Sicheng—I even heated it up and drizzled some honey in to be extra fancy, so appreciate my efforts!” 

Rolling his eyes, Sicheng obliges and downs his glass of milk all at once. He’s more of a cold drinks type of guy and perhaps Baekhyun was a bit too generous with the honey, but the drink does wonders as it warms his insides and soothes his troubled thoughts.

Sicheng’s had Baekhyun’s number since day one, but before tonight, he’d never had any reason to call him. Why would he, when the only conversations they’ve ever had were work-related and few and far in between? Hell, Sicheng doesn’t quite know _why_ he even turned to the former secretary—realistically it would have been much less of a hassle to crash at Taeil’s or even Chanyeol’s; why would he reach out to someone who doesn’t even work with them anymore?

Luckily, Baekhyun was gracious enough to deal with his sobbing, incoherent blubbering and simply told Sicheng his address. “Only drive once you’ve calmed down a bit,” he’d instructed gently yet firmly. “You can park in the spot with my apartment number since I don’t have a car. Make sure you drive safely, okay?”

Approximately forty minutes later, Baekhyun was ushering him in to a cozy studio apartment. He’d grabbed Sicheng by the shoulders once the door had closed and inspected his face, lips pursed in thought. Sicheng knew he’d looked terrible, but Baekhyun didn’t say anything about it and merely pointed to a door in the corner and said, “Go wash up—you can even take a shower if you want—and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Which brings them to the present, in which Sicheng just finished polishing off a bowl of egg rice (“Those are about all the ingredients I have now,” Baekhyun admitted sheepishly. “College life hitting about fourteen years too late.”). Baekhyun gathers the empty bowl and milk glass, setting them in the sink without bothering to wash them.

“So,” he remarks lightly. “Wanna talk about it?”

_It_ , huh? Where to even begin with explaining _it_? “Not really,” Sicheng admits, lowering his head in shame. Sardonically, he mutters, “I probably seem really lame right now, right?” 

Baekhyun shrugs. “Eh. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think it’s all that bad to cry over boys.”

Unconsciously, Sicheng digs his nails into his palms. “I’m that obvious?”

“Oh, I’ve cried over plenty of boys in my lifetime—I know it when I see it,” Baekhyun cracks a smile. He rests his hip against the kitchen counter and regards Sicheng with sympathetic eyes. “There’s really no shame over it, Sicheng. Emotions are a bitch and there aren’t that many productive ways to vent them out. You can go ahead and cry if you want, I won’t judge.”

How is it possible for such a person to exist? Baekhyun must be an angel or some kind of saint in disguise, because there's no other possible explanation for how _good_ he is. Sicheng slumps onto the table, resting his chin on top of his crossed arms. “Thanks, hyung. I think I’ve already cried all my feelings out though, so I’m good for now. I’ll warn you if it happens again.”

“Duly noted,” Baekhyun nods, taking another small sip from his nightcap. “And it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it; I get it. We can talk about something else instead.”

Before Sicheng can utter another “Thanks” or even open his mouth, Baekhyun downs the rest of his nightcap and says, “How’s the team doing? Jongdae gives me updates whenever we meet up, but I’m sure his accounts are biased.”

Deciding to go along with it, Sicheng huffs out a quick laugh. “Yeah? What’s he told you?”

Baekhyun waves a hand. “Oh, the usual. Ten and Seungwan running amok, Lucas gradually improving, Dae bracing himself for kid number three, et cetera. Sooyoung got married last week, didn’t she? I was planning on going—I even RSVPed and everything!—but my dickhead of a professor scheduled a Saturday exam. Can you believe that? I had to deal with a very disappointed Park Sooyoung over the phone, but she seemed pretty understanding so I wished her well and sent her a wedding gift.”

“Wow, that’s pretty brave of you. Soo would’ve throttled me if I didn’t make it,” Sicheng shudders, picturing a red-eyed, fire-breathing Sooyoung with claws for nails. If he’d so much as dared _joke_ that he wouldn’t go, she would’ve hunted him down and skinned him alive. And it’s a good thing he did go, because who knows what would’ve happened if he and Taeil hadn’t both been there.

“I heard Ten is apparently next to get married? Poor Johnny,” Baekhyun chuckles with a shake of his head. 

Right. The bouquet. Sicheng digs his nails even deeper until his palms sting and blood pricks out of the crescent cuts. He schools his face into a neutral expression and comments, “Sometimes I wonder if we actually did them a favor by setting them up. Johnny-hyung’s probably suffering so much from Ten-hyung’s weirdness.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes in amusement. “Come on, Ten’s a lot of fun and you know it. When he’s not being painfully oblivious, that is.”

Not for the first time, Sicheng can’t help but wonder just how Baekhyun and Ten of all people became close. He still remembers how, back in the day, Ten would make comments bordering on snide about Baekhyun’s seemingly one-sided crush on Chanyeol. Ten wasn’t the one who started it, but somehow the rest of their roughly-same-aged friends joined in on the joke too, only staying quiet when Jongdae threatened them to stop. Sicheng never made those jokes himself, but back then he still found them funny and didn’t bother stopping the others. 

It’s not like Ten said those things with cruel intent, but Sicheng always had a feeling that Baekhyun probably knew what the others were saying behind his back. If he had to take a guess, however, Baekhyun also probably never cared that much. Whether he simply ignored them or just had thick skin, Sicheng’s not entirely sure, but Baekhyun doesn’t seem like the type of person to be overly bothered by what others say about him.

But that still begs the question of how exactly two very different people became so close in such a seemingly short span of time. 

As if he could read Sicheng's mind, Baekhyun pours himself another nightcap and hums. “Ten and I both had to grow up a lot over the past year, and we were kind of brought together through Jongdae and some other incidents. It’s a very long story, but I’d say things all turned out the way they should.”

The Ten of last summer had been withdrawn despite his easygoing banter and antics, struggling to deal with someone so important to him moving away and someone else coming back. Sicheng remembers the way he’d look at Johnny, eyes full of longing yet also resentment for whatever happened between them in college. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was something off about heart-on-his-sleeve, outgoing Ten. Now though, Sicheng’s noticed that Ten smiles a lot more again. He’s still up to his usual shenanigans, of course—that much will never change—but something about him feels more mature, yet as childish as ever. Sicheng can’t quite put his finger on what it is or how to describe it, but he supposes that as long as Ten is happy and doing well, there’s no need for an explanation.

The same goes for Baekhyun, too. Sicheng’s heard bits and pieces about his life—he almost debuted as an idol, worked as a barista for a few years, got the secretary position thanks to Jongdae and Chanyeol’s good graces—but never particularly paid that much attention to him. Everyone’s got their ghosts, so who’s he to judge Baekhyun’s life decisions? Besides, if it doesn’t affect Sicheng, it’s not his problem (at least, that's how he used to think).

Still though, he can’t help but be amazed by the man across from him. After a lifetime of setbacks, failures, and false starts, it's truly admirable that Baekhyun is still growing.

“How do you do it?” Sicheng blurts out, unable to help himself. Baekhyun lifts a brow, which spurs Sicheng on to continue. “How’d you just…throw everything away—wait, that doesn’t sound right. Not throw away, but how did you actually have the strength to start over again? I mean, white collar work is pretty boring, but it’s not the worst thing in the world and being in the team actually pays kinda well. I don’t think I could’ve done what you did if I were in the same position—like, having the courage to completely start over at this point in your life. Not that you’re too old or anything, but—but—”

_You’re rambling,_ a sarcastic, cynical inner voice drawls. _And overthinking, but what’s new?_

If Baekhyun’s at all annoyed by Sicheng’s incoherent babbling, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he merely finishes the rest of his drink and slides the empty glass to the sink. Baekhyun’s expression is solemn as he rubs his chin, head facing Sicheng but eyes not quite meeting his. “Well,” he begins slowly, dragging out the word as long as he can. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a lot of second thoughts. I was so confident when I typed up that resignation letter, but every time I meant to leave it at Chanyeol’s desk, I’d panic and put it back in my bag. I almost ripped it up and stayed, but then Jongdae found out.”

With a small chuckle, Baekhyun adds, “He snatched the letter out of my hands and slapped it on Chanyeol’s desk, then dragged me out for drinks. I guess you could say the rest is history.”

Sicheng doesn’t doubt that for a second. If there’s anyone who can knock sense into the most stubborn of people, it’s Kim Jongdae. “Hyung sounds like a really good friend,” he comments, thinking of all the times he’s seen Jongdae defend Baekhyun from unfounded mocking and cheered him up when he felt down.

The smile that lines Baekhyun’s lips is incredibly, unmistakably fond. “I’d never admit it to his face, but Jongdae really did save my life. Which is funny, actually, because I spent more time than I’d like to admit feeling jealous of him.”

Sicheng blinks. “Jealous of _Jongdae-hyung_?” He echoes, unsure if his ears are deceiving him or not. Jongdae, of all people? Jongdae, who’s always seemed the most normal and—in a completely inoffensive way—ordinary despite his acerbic tongue? Jongdae, Baekhyun’s best friend for life?

Why on earth would Baekhyun be jealous of him?

“That’s another long story,” Baekhyun muses. He detaches himself from the counter and takes the seat next to Sicheng, says, “I’m sure you must have heard about my trainee days, right? Well, here’s the thing—the scouts initially wanted Jongdae, not me.”

“What?” Sicheng exclaims, baffled. Not that Jongdae is ugly or anything—in fact, Sicheng thinks he’s quite good-looking with his perhaps not so conventional features—but if he had to pick which of the two friends fit the idol image better, he’d choose Baekhyun without thinking twice. Baekhyun’s got the flower boy, more youthful-looking face and brighter personality, whereas Jongdae seems like too much of a free spirit to ever be tied down to the restricted life of an idol. Plus, considering how much he loves his family, Sicheng doubts Jongdae would have been willing to give that life up for one of fame.

Baekhyun tilts his head to the side, a certain type of melancholy in his eyes. “Oh yes,” he confirms with a grave nod. “They approached us after Jongdae and I performed a duet at our high school talent show and gave us their cards. But when only I showed up to the audition, they admitted that they’d been hoping Jongdae came instead. Said that even though I had the looks and could sing well, they wanted a real powerhouse main vocalist. I don’t even remember what I sang or what the judges told me, but I was so angry and sang my ass off, determined to prove them all wrong.”

A bitter smile mars his deceptively youthful face. “And then I got the callback, so from that point on I dedicated all my free time to training. I didn’t bother applying to university or anything because I really believed I’d make it as an idol. Guess it’s pretty obvious how that ended, huh?”

Sicheng remembers how the rest of this story goes. Baekhyun eventually quit training in his early twenties, then worked as a barista for a few years. He joined the team only a few months before Sicheng, but his poise and efficiency as secretary made it seem as if he’d been there for years. Hell, Sicheng never would have guessed that Baekhyun had spent the first part of his adult life doing something completely different, because Baekhyun did his job like a pro and was always the most reliable member of the team.

Looking back on it now, Sicheng has a sneaking suspicion that that professionalism and composure stemmed from a desire for a second chance.

Baekhyun shifts, placing his hands under his thighs and rocking back and forth in his seat. “Long story short, while I was waiting around for a debut that never happened, Jongdae was doing great. He met Sunyoung, made so many new friends, and got a job straight out of college. I’m sure he’s told you how he spent a year working for a friend in Beijing, right? That was, without a doubt, the worst year of my life. He was all I had after I’d thrown everything away to be an idol, and then he was gone, too. Once he came back though, he gave me that kick in the pants I seriously needed and helped me get the secretary job. And of course I had a great few years with you all, but around Christmas last year, I realized that I was satisfied but not quite _happy_ with my life. So I took the initiative to get off my ass and find a way to be happy.”

“And?” Sicheng prompts, chest suddenly feeling unusually constricted and tight and he can’t for the life of him figure out why. “How’s that been going? The whole happiness thing?”

Because as far as he can tell, Baekhyun’s got a very interesting definition of happiness. The secretary job isn’t the most coveted career in the world, but Taeng&Co employees are all paid rather generously and it’s a good, steady position. Now, the dark circles under Baekhyun’s eyes are prominent as he’s got textbooks and notebooks stacked on the table, piles upon piles of haphazardly scrawled notes strewn across the couch. University is a pain in the ass regardless of how old the student may be, and when Sicheng studies Baekhyun, it’s as if he’s staring in a mirror at his twenty year old self.

How much strength is needed to take a leap and start over? How much resilience to begin again not once, but twice? When you could live the rest of your life in satisfaction but instead risk another failure to hopefully achieve happiness? When everything was stable but now it’s all _inconclusive, inconclusive, inconclusive_?

_How?_

“Well,” Baekhyun lifts and lowers a shoulder, then makes a wide, sweeping gesture. There’s an actual, only-in-the-movies twinkle in his tired eyes as he gently says, “I have a pretty decent apartment, a best friend who’s always had my back, two—about to be three!—adorable godchildren, a supportive group of friends, and a dream I’m working hard towards. What’s not to be happy about?”

Quite frankly, Sicheng can’t argue with that.

Baekhyun hoists himself to his feet and ruffles Sicheng’s hair like he would a child’s. “Anyway, it’s late. I’d offer you the bed, but my old man back can’t stand the couch. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Sicheng quickly insists, shaking himself out of his brief reverie. After a moment’s hesitation, he quietly adds, “Thank you, hyung. For…a lot, I guess. I don’t know how else to put it.”

Baekhyun merely smiles. “No problem,” he replies. “Anything for a friend.”

_Dong Sicheng to Nakamoto Yuta_

_Dong Sicheng: Hey…_

_Dong Sicheng: Sorry I didn’t text earlier, but I’ve found a place to crash at._

_Nakamoto Yuta: Oh, that’s good! I was worried you were still out looking, so thank god you’re okay._

_Dong Sicheng: All good. I’m sorry I took the car, by the way. If you need it I can always leave it in the parking garage for you._

_Nakamoto Yuta: No no no, I don’t need to drive anywhere so you keep the car._

_Dong Sicheng: Okay._

_Dong Sicheng: It’s late. I’m about to sleep, but I just wanted to talk to you for a bit._

_Nakamoto Yuta: I’m always here for you, Sicheng. That much hasn’t changed._

_Dong Sicheng: I know. Good night, hyung._

_Nakamoto Yuta: Night. Sleep well <3_

  
****

Due to its small size, Baekhyun’s studio apartment is vulnerable to all kinds of noises. Sicheng’s grown well accustomed to hearing late night traffic after spending the last decade in Shanghai and Seoul, but he finds himself staring up at the ceiling for god knows how long as he tries and fails to will himself into sleep. The refrigerator keeps whirring and the springs of the small bed squeak as Baekhyun tosses and turns in his sleep, and Sicheng can’t move an inch without the leather of the couch bunching up and protesting. Seoul in June isn’t unbearably hot, but it’s still warm enough that Baekhyun left the creaky overhead fan on. 

A pang of guilt hits Sicheng in the stomach, forcing him to clutch his midsection and tightly curl into his blanket. _What the hell am I doing?_ He meditates miserably, staring up at the rotating blades like they’re about to provide him the answers to all his dejected questions. _Is this what not running away looks like? Am I doing the right thing?_

Baekhyun’s soft snoring is the only response Sicheng gets as his eyelids droop and sweet, dreamless sleep finally swallows him.

By the time he wakes up, it’s well past noon and Baekhyun’s nowhere to be found. Groaning, Sicheng massages his temples and blindly grasps his phone, bracing himself for a potential onslaught of messages. The last thing he wants is for his friends to send him dozens of worried messages asking what happened last night—he certainly didn’t tell anyone and he doubts Yuta or Baekhyun would’ve said anything since it’s a private matter, but information tends to travel faster than light within the team.

To his relief, he’s only got two messages from that morning: a note from Baekhyun informing Sicheng that he’s out grocery shopping and a simple good morning from Yuta that makes Sicheng’s heart leap into his throat. His fingers are poised to type out a response—what exactly, he’s not sure, since his mind is a few steps behind his hands—but then he notices another unread message that piques his interest.

_Qian Kun: Hey, I really don’t want to pressure or stress you or anything, but can you call me tomorrow morning? There’s something I really need to talk to you about._

Ah. Right. Sicheng vaguely remembers clearing the notification from his lock screen during bowling last night. He wasn’t trying to avoid Kun by any means, but the message sounded so ominous and quite frankly scared him, so he did what he does best—run away from the problem, that is.

Now that he’s actually opened his chat with Kun though and it’s clear that he’s read it, Sicheng has no other choice than to press the call button and pray for the best.

“Well well well, look who the cat dragged in,” Kun’s sarcastic voice crackles on the other end. “Afternoon, Sicheng.”

“Hey,” Sicheng croaks out, wincing at how terrible his just-got-up voice sounds. “Sorry I haven’t been talking much recently. I’ve had—”

Kun cuts in before he can finish. “A lot on your plate, I know,” he remarks coolly. “What’s new these days?”

Maybe it’s because he just had the shittiest night of his life and he still feels like utter shit, but there’s something about Kun’s bitterly icy tone that really, _really_ rubs him the wrong way.

“What the hell is your problem?” Sicheng hisses, raking a hand through his messy hair in frustration. Unable to stop now that he’s started, he angrily snaps, “So I haven’t been communicating well recently—fine, I admit it. That’s on me and yes I suppose that makes me a shitty friend. But when I say I have a lot going on, you don’t get to judge or make assumptions. You know how hard it is to try and fill you in on everything when we’re in completely different countries and you don’t know anyone I’m talking about, which means there’s not much you can do to help? So excuse me for trying to not make you worry when there’s nothing you can do and you’re only going to feel frustrated that you can’t help me— _that’s_ what’s fucking new, ge.”

_Oh, god, what have I done now? I’ve just made everything so much worse—shit, shit, shit. First Yuta and now Kun—I really am only good at driving people away and running and—_

“You’re right.”

— _what?_

Kun exhales, and perhaps there’s a tremor when he breathes but it’s gone too fast for Sicheng to be able to tell. “I don’t want to fight with you, Sicheng,” Kun says, voice so strained and weary he sounds like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, too—for not understanding some things and lashing out the way I just did. Yes I am frustrated, but that’s because I’m just worried and want the best for you.”

“But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

Sicheng blinks. Where the hell is this already twisty conversation going? Still, he’ll take it as a small victory that Kun doesn’t seem to be upset with him (even though, at the same time, he can’t shake off the feeling that Kun’s holding something back), so he curiously inquires, “Oh? What’s wrong? Is it about your shops?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. It’s just, well,” Kun hesitates, sucking in a loud breath through his teeth. “Well, there really is no way to sugarcoat it so here goes: Yangyang lost his internship.”

The phone slips out of Sicheng’s fingers, landing on the couch with a soft thud. _Yangyang lost his internship._ Sweet, hard-working, universal little brother Yangyang, lost the position he’d spent the better part of his second semester of senior year prepping for? The internship so prestigious Sicheng and Kun threw him a party and gifted him mountains of stationary and office supplies after hearing the good news? Yangyang, who’s of course a pain in the ass like Dejun and Guanheng, but ultimately one of the kindest people alive?

Oh, God.

“Shit,” is all Sicheng can think to say.

“Yeah. Shit,” Kun echoes in agreement.

“I…I…” _I should have known. I should have been there for him. I should have been a better friend, goddammit._

As if he could hear Sicheng’s thoughts, Kun coughs and mutters, “You had no idea and there was no way for you to know. He hid it from Dejun and Guanheng too, so don’t feel guilty. That kid’s too good at faking it for his own good, especially over text. I only found out because he came to one of my shops in tears the day it happened and a waitress recognized him. The other kids still don’t know because he begged me not to tell, but he said it’s alright for you to know.”

“What? Why me?” Sicheng creases his brow. He’s close to Yangyang like he is with all of them, sure, but Dejun and Guanheng are by far the youngest’s best friends. The fact that Yangyang is adamant on the two of them not knowing is more than concerning.

He can practically hear Kun shrug as the other man laments, “I don’t know, he didn’t really say. If I had to guess though, I’d say he feels embarrassed. We’re a bit older so it’s expected of us to have full time jobs, but Dejun and Guanheng are only a year older yet they’re pretty steady too. Yangyang probably thinks he’d look bad compared to them, or that they’d judge him. I tried telling him that of course they wouldn’t judge because they’re his best friends and care about him, but he’s insistent on not telling them yet. He couldn’t even bring himself to tell you either because he looks up to you so much, which is why he asked me to break the news.”

_Oh, Yangyang. Of all people, I’m the last you should idolize._ Sicheng’s grip tightens on his phone. Demands, “What exactly happened? How is he doing?”

“Again, I don’t know that much. From what little he’s told me, there was some major error that happened in his department a few weeks back and because of it the company’s been scrambling to do damage control ever since. But his mentor was an asshole and forced Yangyang to take the fall since he’s a ‘disposable intern’—ugh, I want to punch him so bad—and, well, doing so cost his internship. Yang’s been pretty shaken up ever since. He won’t leave his apartment unless I drag him out, and he’s barely answering his phone unless it’s the group chat, either. Dejun and Guanheng probably suspect there’s something up, but they’re both busy so they haven’t had the time to really notice anything wrong.”

“Anyway,” Kun sighs for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of their short conversation. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you, but you seemed super stressed yourself so I held back. Except now I’m really, really concerned about Yangyang—he hasn’t even started looking for new positions yet, and his roommate told me that he’s never seem him look so lifeless before. And I want to tell the other kids because if anyone can cheer Yang up it’s them, but I don’t want to betray his trust by telling them when he specifically told me not to. So now I just feel useless, like I should be doing something for him but I have no clue what to do.”

By all means, the distance between Seoul and Shanghai is fairly small. _866 kilometers_ , Sicheng reminded his teary-eyed friends as they saw him off at the airport. _866 kilometers, a one hour flight, a sea—that’s all there is between us._

But still: 866 kilometers is more than a few blocks; a one hour flight is more than a ten minute drive, and a sea is more than a street. No matter what, distance will never be insignificant, and the farther the spaces between the more difficult things becomes. It’s what happened to Yuta and his high school friends—eventually, distance prevailed over years of knowing each other and they went their separate ways. And Sicheng knows that that’s only natural, that people form new relationships as their paths with old ones diverge, but still…

Still.

Sicheng will be damned if he lets distance win so easily. 

So he bunches his free hand into a fist, plants his feet on the carpet, and declares, “Come visit me.”

A dumbfounded pause crackles on the other end. “Say what?” Kun replies blankly, clearly at a loss for words.

Sicheng stands up and starts pacing, the movement helping quell the surge of emotion in his chest. He thinks of the way he and Kun exchanged harsh words only minutes ago, how Yangyang couldn’t face him and instead relied on Kun to be the bearer of bad news, and the huge dip in frequency that he responds to the daily flood of messages from the group chat. Because that’s what distance does—first it’s physical, and then it’s so much more than that. Maybe this friendship was doomed the second Sicheng accepted the job in Korea, but if that’s the case, he’d like to say a big “Fuck you” to the world and prove them wrong.

Kun, Dejun, Guanheng, and Yangyang were always there for him during the ups and downs of college and the first phase of his short adult life; the least he can do is be there for them, too.

“I mean it,” he asserts, sensing Kun’s skepticism. “Come visit. You guys are always talking about wanting to see Korea, so why not now? I mean, I could always take a few days off and fly over to Shanghai to see you guys, but I think a trip could really help clear Yangyang’s mind. Bring Dejun and Guanheng too because it’ll be more fun with all of you. I can show you around when I’m not working, and some of you can stay with me and Yu—”

_Oh._

Sicheng nearly fumbles over his words, but he catches himself at the last second and forces a grin even though there’s no one to witness it. “Actually, I’ll have to double check before agreeing to house any of you. But if it comes down to it, I know some decently priced hotels in the area and I can help with all the logistical stuff. I’m serious, ge. You guys really should come to Seoul.”

Another beat of silence, but this one is much shorter. _Good_ , Sicheng thinks victoriously. Kun’s seriously thinking about it, which means he’s very likely to give in sooner or later. 

“That’s…that’s very generous of you, Sicheng,” Kun concedes, albeit still with some hesitation. “I’d love to see you in Seoul, but it might take a while before we can make that happen. We’ve all got different work schedules and god knows how hard it would be to get Yangyang out of the country when he already barely leaves his room, so there’s so much to plan. I’ll bring it up with Dejun and Guanheng to see what they think, and if they can find the time then the three of us can try and convince Yang. But I can’t promise anything right now.”

“That’s fine,” Sicheng smiles. “It would really mean a lot to me if you can make it. Come on, Kun-ge—just give it some thought, okay? You can finally meet Xuxi, too!”

_And Yuta_ , his mind chooses to very helpfully—and snidely—supply.

The smile slips off his lips almost immediately. Delicately, he murmurs, “And about earlier…I meant it when I said that there are some things that are a bit too complicated to explain over the phone. I’m well, not going through the best time right now. Yeah it has to do with Yuta, but it’s more than that, too. I don’t know, I’m really shit at talks like this.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want you guys to come because I think it would be good for Yangyang, but also because I really, really, _really_ need to see you all again. I also think we’re all going through some not so great times right now, and this is when we really need each other. So, please—let’s meet in person, ge.”

For the first time, Sicheng can hear more than just weariness in his friend’s voice as Kun says a simple, “I’ll try,” then hangs up.

_Baby steps,_ he reminds himself. _Baby steps first, big ones later._

As much as Sicheng likes staying with Baekhyun—he can’t remember the last time he’s felt so calm and healed—he knows he can’t infringe upon his former coworker’s hospitality any longer. Baekhyun insists that it’s fine and he doesn’t mind, which Sicheng doesn’t doubt because Baekhyun is an angel, but Sicheng’s also not stupid. The small studio apartment really isn’t meant for more than one, and unlike Sicheng who can solely relax once he gets home, Baekhyun is swamped with studying and assignments on top of having to attend lectures. It simply wouldn’t be fair on him, so on Sunday afternoon, Sicheng packs what little belongings he brought with him and bids Baekhyun goodbye—but not before Baekhyun forces a plastic bag full of snacks and drinks into his hand.

“You need to eat more or else you’ll waste away,” Baekhyun chides, eyeing Sicheng’s slender limbs in disapproval. “Why are kids so skinny these days? Eat up!”

Suppressing a sarcastic _Thanks, Mom,_ Sicheng laughs and accepts the bag that’s practically bursting with how much junk food Baekhyun stuffed into it. “I will, I will,” he promises. “Thanks for everything, hyung. You take care of yourself, too.”

So after getting into his car and placing Baekhyun’s care package on the passenger seat, that begged the next question: Where to now? Who to take advantage of?

There’s an obvious answer and a not so obvious one. Naturally, Sicheng chooses the latter.

“Oh, _hell_ ,” Ten curses, glaring at Sicheng with narrowed eyes.

Sicheng shoots him a weak grin. “Surprise?” He offers, channeling his inner Jeno as he attempts to recreate the young one’s puppy eyes.

Unimpressed, Ten crosses his arms and narrows his eyes even more. It’s past noon already, but Ten’s still in a ratty T-shirt and boxer shorts that expose _way_ more of his thighs than Sicheng ever wanted to see (side note: the guy actually has some killer legs. Very impressive). His hair is sticking up in random directions and, judging by the way his cheeks are a bit puffy, his lips are swollen, and the suspicious dark marks lining his neck, Ten definitely had a very _exciting_ night.

That fact almost makes Sicheng feel bad for showing up like this, but oh well. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

“You’re lucky Johnny-hyung had to head back early today,” Ten finally grumbles, reluctantly waving Sicheng in. “Because it’s incredibly tempting to slam the door in your face, you know.”

_Don’t I know it._ “You’re the best, Ten-hyung,” Sicheng laughs, readjusting his duffel bag over his shoulder as he makes his way in.

Before he can toe his shoes off, though, Ten whirls around and points an accusing finger at him. “Not so fast, mister,” Ten warns, catlike eyes narrowed once again. He would probably look a lot more threatening if he were a few inches taller and not dressed the way he currently is, but Sicheng still freezes in place anyway.

“Um, what?” Sicheng asks hesitantly, wondering if Ten really was the best choice after all because absolutely nothing good could possibly come out of whatever conversation they’re about to have next.

Ten takes a step closer and, to Sicheng’s mild disgust and great confusion, presses the tip of his index finger against Sicheng’s forehead. “Hyung, literally what the fu—” Sicheng yelps, reeling back in shock and promptly falling flat on his ass. _Nope, he definitely wasn’t the best choice. I regret everything._

“There are a few conditions if you want to crash here,” Ten jeers in a singsong voice, the smirk plastered over his lips entirely too devilish. “Condition one: you have to cook for me!”

_Um…_ “Aren’t you a grown man? I’m sure you can cook for yourself,” Sicheng argues flatly.

Ten tsks, jabbing Sicheng’s forehead again because he’s infuriating like that. “Yeah, well I suck ass at cooking, so consider it your method of payment. We clear?”

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_ “Fine,” he relents, swatting Ten’s hand away from him because _ew, germs_. “I’ll cook for you. What else do you want?”

The smirk on Ten’s face deepens. The bastard knows exactly how much power he has right now, and he’s exploiting it. Screw him (but also not really, because Sicheng will take what he can get. Unfortunately.)

“Number two,” Ten grandly clears his throat. “I don’t know how long you’re planning on being homeless, but you can only stay on weekdays. Weekends are Johnny fun time, ya know?”

_Oh, hell_. “Right. Wouldn’t want to interrupt that,” Sicheng agrees through gritted teeth. Good lord, he sure as hell won’t be setting foot in the place now that he’s got that information in mind. Once, Sicheng walked past the make out closet when those two were occupying it, and judging by the high-pitched moan that’s been permanently seared into his memory since then, he’s not particularly keen on finding out what kind of noises Ten and Johnny make during _fun time_.

Smugly, Ten crosses his arms and lifts his chin, staring down at Sicheng like a king. “Good. Because I gotta make the most of that time. Ooh, actually, I just thought of an amendment to the first rule: You have to drive me around, too.”

“Am I your slave?”

“What do you think?”

Quite frankly, Sicheng has nothing to say to that. “Whatever,” he concedes. “What else do you want then, your highness?”

“Ooh,” Ten marvels. “‘Your highness’. I like that a lot.”

“Get on with it, please.”

Ten rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Fine fine, what’s the hurry? The third and last rule is that I’m not going to stick my nose into your business, but you sure as hell better be fair to Yuta.”

Sicheng’s breath hitches.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ten declares, holding a hand in the air to silence Sicheng. Ten purses his lips, then sighs and says, “I’m dying to know what happened, trust me. I had brunch with Yuta yesterday and he seemed out of it—not like, super obviously out of it because you know how he is—and then I get this cryptic ass text from Baekhyun-hyung thirty minutes ago saying you’ll probably show up, and now here you are like some abandoned puppy.”

_Baekhyun?_

Noticing Sicheng’s bewildered expression, Ten tugs at the hem of his oversized shirt and mumbles, “Yeah, he’s scarily smart like that. It’s like he knows everything before it actually happens—but that’s not the point. Bottom line is, I don’t want to hear about what happened because Yuta’s one of my best friends and I’d like to stay neutral. Besides, whatever happens between the two of you is hardly my business, so I’ll let you figure things out yourselves.”

“But for fuck’s sake, Sicheng, you can’t shut him out like this. That’s not good for either of you, and you know it.”

Of course he knows it; that’s not the problem, though. “Okay,” Sicheng agrees quietly, purposefully choosing not to mention the fact that he doesn’t know if he can actually uphold such a promise. 

_But sometimes, you also make me so sad._

Who is he to promise anything when he couldn’t even recognize Yuta’s pain?

“Just..” He trails off, contemplating whether or not to ask even more of Ten than he already has. By all means, Ten has no reason to not kick him out. They’re friends, except they’re definitely not close. Other than a few lunchtime conversations and the time Sicheng convinced Ten to help clean his apartment, they haven’t ever hung out before. Ten’s one of Yuta’s best friends, for god’s sake—if anything, Ten should’ve slammed the door in his face.

But Baekhyun’s words must have been convincing enough and/or Ten is compassionate enough to understand when someone is in a time of need, so that’s got to mean something. 

Nervously, Sicheng gnaws at his bottom lip and asks, “Please don’t tell Sooyoung and Taeil.”

Ten’s staring down at him like Sicheng’s a complete idiot, and to be fair, Sicheng can’t exactly blame him because it’s quite true. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Ten deadpans, wholly unamused. “Sicheng, I don’t know if you know what ‘stop running away’ means, but I’m sure that not telling your two best friends that you’re currently homeless because you had a fight with your boyfriend doesn’t count.”

Okay, so when Ten puts it that way Sicheng admittedly does sound pretty dumb. Scratch that, Sicheng’s dumb no matter what, so he may as well own up to it.

“Just for now,” he pleads, dropping his gaze to the floor in shame. He’s still on his ass from the first time Ten poked him in the forehead, which doesn’t help in the humiliation department. “They’re both really happy right now, so I don’t want to burden them with my problems. I know I know, I should tell them because they care for me, but I don’t even know what to say. I’ll tell them eventually but just…keep it secret for now, okay? Please?”

_How hypocritical_ , he scoffs internally. _You’re trying to help Yangyang, yet you’re doing the exact same shit he is. Very mature of you, Dong Sicheng._

Sicheng hears a sigh and the telltale sound of Ten dragging a hand against his face, then feels a prod against his thigh. A hand juts into his vision as Ten stoically orders, “Up.”

That’s probably as much confirmation he’s gonna get. Relieved, Sicheng clasps his hand around Ten’s and lets the latter help raise him to his feet. “Thanks hyung,” he mumbles, unable to meet Ten’s gaze.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ten waves a hand nonchalantly. “Anyway, I’m hungry, so you’d better cook something for me. Chop chop, servant.”

Life goes on.

Sicheng cooks and chauffeurs Ten around in exchange for a couch to sleep on and a roof over his head. Despite how ominous the terms may have sounded, they’re not nearly as bad as Sicheng expected. Ten is a bit of a drama queen, but that’s more for show than anything else. In reality, he’s fairly easygoing, never demanding too much and remaining a respectful friend. Ten is satisfied with whatever Sicheng cooks as long as there’s no fruit involved, and he doesn’t leave the apartment that often so there aren’t any ridiculous driving requests. And, well, Sicheng doesn’t mind the drives to and from work with Ten in the passenger seat—the guy is chatty but nice to listen to, and it’s fun to hear about his theatrical retellings of scarring events.

When the first Friday evening rolls around, Sicheng repacks his duffel bag and gets ready to go before Johnny can arrive. Ten quirks a brow and asks if he’s sure he has a place to stay for the next few days, and it’s with a grim nod that Sicheng sees himself out.

“Hiya, hyung!” A pajama-clad, bespectacled Jeno chirps, an armful of cat clutched to his chest. Cutely, he holds up the cat’s paw and waves it in greeting as the cat stares at Sicheng with unimpressed yellow eyes. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

_By ‘we’ do you mean you and Jaemin or you and the cat?_ Sicheng thinks amusedly, holding back a smile. “Thanks for having me. I, uh, bought cat food as a thank you,” he says, holding up a plastic bag. “I didn’t know which brand you used, so I texted Jaemin first.”

Jeno’s eyes light up. “Oh! That’s so nice of you, hyung,” he gushes, accepting the bag and ushering Sicheng in. “Look, Bongsik! It’s your favorite!” Jeno coos, showing his less than amused cat Sicheng’s gift.

Sicheng’s barely taken three steps when something rubs against his leg, halting him in place. A second cat peers up at him, followed by yet another cat that wraps its tail around his ankles.

Somehow, Sicheng has a feeling he already knows how this weekend is going to go.

The apartment may originally be Jaemin’s and Jeno may pay half the rent, but Bongsik, Seol, and Nal are clearly the heads of the house. Jeno rushes to their every beck and call, and although Jaemin is not quite as enamored with the felines, he lets them climb all over him and dutifully cleans their bowls and litter box. 

“It’s a package deal,” Jaemin dryly explains, furrowing his brow as he scrubs Nal’s bowl clean. “If I want Jeno, I have to take his cats, too. They say to be wary of men with baggage but trust me; a man with pets is much worse.”

Jaemin dries off the bowl with a towel and stoops down to scoop more pellets into it. “I’m really not much of a cat person myself, and at first I didn’t want to go through with Renjun’s suggestion because I didn’t want to take care of three cats on top of my dumb boyfriend,” he confesses, setting the full bowl onto a tray with the other dishes. His eyes soften as he quickly glances at the living room, where Jeno’s curled up asleep on the couch with Seol lying on his torso. “But then I figured relationships are all about compromise and working things out, so I went through with it.”

“And now?” Sicheng prompts, quirking a brow. For some reason, Bongsik and Nal keep circling his feet, keeping him rooted in spot. Nal especially won’t stop sniffing at his ankles, as if he’s determining whether Sicheng’s worthy of invading their home.

Probably not, but the cats don’t need to know that.

Bongsik breaks away to lap at her water bowl, purring when Jaemin scratches the top of her head. “Well,” Jaemin shrugs with a small, barely noticeable smile. “I’m still a dog person, but I guess these three are pretty okay. As long as Jeno’s happy, y’know? I plan on keeping him around for a long time, so if that means I’ve got to deal with some cats…well, that doesn’t seem like too bad of a deal.”

_Compromise. Working things out._

Another thought for the filling cabinet.

Come Monday morning, Sicheng drives to Ten’s with Jeno and Jaemin in the backseat and takes the rather odd squad to work. Sooyoung, who’s finally back from her honeymoon in Japan, presents Sicheng with a snow globe. “I know it’s cliché, but those cherry blossom trees really are something,” she sighs dreamily, wistfully staring off into the distance. “You should get Yuta to take you!”

_Har, har, har._ “Yeah. I’ll tell him that.”

Work is, well, uneventful, to put it lightly. Taeil and Doyoung continue their bizarre mating dance as they continue slapping notes on each other’s monitors, using old-fashioned pet names like “sweetie” and “hon”, sharing meals, giving Sicheng a migraine with their antics, and generally acting awfully domestic for a weeks old couple. Lucas continues to improve more and more each day to the point where he no longer needs to ask Sicheng for any assistance at all, and the pride in Mark’s eyes when Lucas exhibits near perfect Korean is nothing short of heart-warming. Sicheng had briefly considered asking to crash with them, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately—he’s definitely closer to Lucas than he is to either Jeno or Jaemin, but Mark and Lucas can’t keep secrets for shit and Taeil and Sooyoung are still to be left in the dark. It feels odd to no longer see Park Jisung sitting on his blue blanket, but Chanyeol provides Sicheng with daily updates about how Jisung’s been doing. Preschool suits him, Chanyeol remarks with a big smile, and Jisung’s already found a best friend in a three year old Chinese boy. 

And then there’s Yuta.

True to his word, Ten doesn’t mention the situation to Taeil or Sooyoung, but he does constantly shoot Sicheng watchful looks. _Keep up your end of the bargain,_ he seems to be warning. Which, to Sicheng’s surprise, isn’t that hard to uphold. Because Yuta still greets him with a warm smile when they run into each other in the elevator, sends him good morning and good night messages, brings an extra lunch box for him, and teasingly pokes him in the neck with a pen whenever he walks by. Sometimes, when Sicheng’s sitting at his desk and staring off into space, he’s jolted back to the present by the realization that Yuta’s staring back at him with gentle eyes.

All in all, not a lot has changed except, well, the fact that they’re not talking to each other. 

The second weekend of Sicheng’s self-inflicted exile, Ten has to go to Jeonju for his best friend’s wedding. “You can stay here alone,” Ten offers as he holds up two ties by his neck. “I don’t mind; I trust you not to burn the place down.”

Sicheng gestures to the blue tie, to which Ten nods in agreement and tosses the purple one to the side. “You sure about that?” Sicheng asks carefully, watching as Ten throws a pair of socks into an overnight bag. “Jeno and Jaemin said they’re more than willing to take me in again, and I don’t want to intrude when you’re not even here.”

Ten snorts. “Trust me, there’s no better time to intrude than when I’m not here,” he remarks, shoving his makeup kit into his bag. “It’s not like I’ve got anything worth stealing, anyway. C’mon, Sicheng—just accept generosity without feeling guilty for once.”

Well, when he puts it that way…and Sicheng does have to finish some last minute planning for the retreat that’s only a week away, which would be a lot easier to finish if he’s not sidetracked by cute cats and a lovesick couple.

“Alright then. Thanks, Ten-hyung,” Sicheng smiles gratefully.

Ten just hums and extends a hand. Dutifully, Sicheng passes him a pair of neatly folded dress pants (“Aren’t you supposed to use a suit bag? Your clothes are gonna be all wrinkly this way.” “To hell with that.”). “Yeah yeah, no problem,” Ten mutters distractedly as he throws his pants in. “You can even sleep on the bed if you want. I don’t mind.”

Sicheng wrinkles his nose and sarcastically replies with, “Tempting, but less so considering the stuff you and Johnny-hyung probably get up to. I’ll pass.”

Without even looking Sicheng’s way, Ten snags a pillow and hurls it at him. “Well, fuck you, too. Don’t act like you and Yuta are any better—I know all about the time you guys literally broke the bed!”

Suppressing a smirk at that very fun memory, Sicheng tosses the pillow right back and chortles when it bounces off Ten’s head, resulting in a disgruntled squawk from the latter. “Literally when are you going home?” Ten demands exasperatedly, giving Sicheng the evil eye.

Ignoring the gnawing feeling consuming his insides, Sicheng sticks out his tongue and responds in a singsong voice, “Neverrrrrr!”

This time, the pillow hits him square in the face.

Despite Ten’s insistence that Sicheng should treat the place as his own, there are a still a few lines Sicheng chooses not to cross. Namely, he really has no intention of sleeping in Ten’s bed—not only because of any possible _fluids_ that may stain the sheets, but also because it would just feel downright wrong to use someone else’s bed given the circumstances. So Sicheng keeps to his spot on the couch at night, ignoring the gradually worsening cramping in his lower back. He’s young, healthy, and capable, dammit; he will not lose to a couch.

Friday night is uneventful other than an invitation from Jeno and Jaemin to go bowling. Sicheng politely declines, then receives the surprise of his life when, the next morning, the two of them show up at the door with a batch of freshly baked chocolate muffins. 

Jaemin smirks when he notices Sicheng’s baffled expression. “It was all Jeno’s idea,” he explains solemnly. “He felt bad that you’re homeless and lonely and wanted to feed you like you’re some stray cat.”

“Jaemmmm,” Jeno whines, smacking his boyfriend on the arm. With doleful eyes, Jeno holds out the platter of muffins and instructs, “Save some for Ten-hyung, too! They should be good for another few days as long as you refrigerate them.”

Touched, Sicheng forces himself to swallow in order to quell the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Such sweet kids, damn. He makes a mental note to look into getting an adorable intern for himself as he accepts the baked goods and says, “You want to come in for a bit? I’m sure Ten won’t mind.”

“Oh, no,” Jeno hurriedly turns down the offer. “We’re actually on our way to a movie, and we’re already running late because _someone_ took too long doing his hair.”

Jaemin doesn’t even bat an (impressively long) eyelash. “Please, I wasn’t the one who got all hot and bothered when—”

“Anyway!” Jeno interrupts with a bright, megawatt beam. He elbows Jaemin in the side for good measure, to which the latter doesn’t even react because he’s a chill motherfucker like that. “Bye, hyung! Enjoy the muffins! Say hi to Ten-hyung for us!”

“Don’t die of loneliness!” Jaemin calls over his shoulder as the couple disappear down the hall, hands interlocked and shoulders brushing.

_Still brats though, I see_ , Sicheng shakes his head as he shuts the door.

Besides that brief interaction, the rest of the morning and afternoon are completely uneventful. After making himself a quick lunch, Sicheng spends the rest of the day sitting at the counter, rewatching _Meteor Garden_ on his phone because Ten’s cable package sucks. In the middle of a kiss scene that’s supposed to be romantic but instead makes Sicheng roll his eyes, Sooyoung texts asking if he wants to get dinner later. Although very tempting, he says no, claiming he’s got leftovers that need to be finished by tonight or else they’ll go bad. In reality, Sicheng just isn’t ready to face either Sooyoung or Taeil, not when both of them can read him like a book. They’ll realize something is wrong despite his poker face, and then they’ll quickly deduce that it’s about Yuta, and then they’ll just worry for him. Which, of course he appreciates, but they’re both having some of the best times of their lives right now—Sooyoung as a newlywed and Taeil livelier than ever as he and Doyoung court each other—and Sicheng doesn’t want to bother them with his problems. So for now, avoidance it is, as dumb as a move that may be.

Not even five minutes after resuming the drama, more message notifications pop up.

_Feeling That V_

_Huang Guanheng: Road trip! Road trip! Road trip!_

_Xiao Dejun: Hell yeah! Road trip!!!!!!!_

_Dong Sicheng: @Qian Kun I see that those two are very on board._

_Qian Kun: Oh, yes they are -_-_

_Qian Kun: Kids, it’s not called a road trip when you have to fly and won’t be doing any actual driving. Please get that right._

_Xiao Dejun: Who cares, WE’RE GOING ON A ROAD TRIP!!!!!!!! SICHENG-GE HERE WE COME!!!!!!! ^o^_

_Huang Xuxi: Does this mean what I think it means??? *o*_

_Huang Guanheng: 99Z UNITE!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Qian Kun: Alright settle down, settle down. We’re still not completely sure yet because we need to double check our schedules, so it may take some time before we can actually come. Plus we need to figure out where we’d stay, too._

_Huang Xuxi: Ooooh, some of you can stay with me! Mark and I have a spare bedroom—ohmygod, you can meet Mark too! (*_*)_

_Xiao Dejun: The cutie? ;D_

_Huang Guanheng: Dude, that’s just messed up. That’s Xuxi’s boyfriend you’re talking about, dumbass._

_Huang Xuxi: Hands off my lil baby lion!!!_

_Dong Sicheng: Yeah excuse me as I throw up in my mouth because literally what the fuck is that pet name?_

_Huang Xuxi: Markles is a baby lion; it’s a well established fact._

_Qian Kun: Isn’t the correct term a cub?_

_Huang Xuxi: If I say he’s a baby lion he’s a baby lion!_

_Qian Kun: Well then._

_Xiao Dejun: Can some of us crash with you, Sicheng-ge? I wanna meet this mythical Yuta!_

_Huang Guanheng: Oooh yeah, me too. Like, does he actually exist?_

_Qian Kun: Of course he exists, you fool. We’ve seen him in the background during video calls._

_Huang Guanheng: Yeah, but how do we know he’s a living breathing human? He could be a hologram for all we know._

_Huang Xuxi: Don’t worry guys, I’ve met Yuta-hyung plenty of times and I can confirm that he’s definitely real!_

_Huang Guanheng: hOW do YOu KnOw THAt foR SUrE?_

_Huang Xuxi: …omg O_O_

_Dong Sicheng: Don’t you even start, Xuxi. You know he’s real—you shook his hand when you first met and you’ve made physical contact plenty of times since then. My boyfriend is real, thank you very much._

_Dong Sicheng: And as far as staying with us goes, I still have to ask him about that. I’ll let you all know once I’ve got an answer, though._

_Qian Kun: Sounds good. Thanks, Sicheng ^_^_

_Huang Xuxi: Hey, where’s Yangx2 today?_

_Xiao Dejun: Dunno, he hasn’t been responding to any of my messages for a while now._

_Xiao Dejun: @Liu Yangyang come out come out wherever you are, pipsqueak._

_Liu Yangyang: I don’t think you’re allowed to call anyone pipsqueak with that height of yours, ge._

_Huang Guanheng: Omg, you’re alive! Yang~~~_

_Xiao Dejun: Road trip. Seoul. Next month. You coming?_

_Liu Yangyang: Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll see._

_Huang Xuxi: Aw, you should totally come! I can show you all the best places around Seoul!_

_Dong Sicheng: That, and it’ll be the first time I’ve seen you all since a couple Christmases ago. Really, Yangyang, you should consider coming._

_Liu Yangyang: …_

_Liu Yangyang: We’ll see._

_Liu Yangyang: Gotta go. Talk to you all later._

Well, Sicheng supposes a _we’ll see_ is better than a _no._ The others keep sending random messages to the group chat even after Yangyang’s left, which makes watching his drama super annoying now that he’s got to keep swiping the notifications away every few seconds. Sighing, he gives up and tosses his phone to side, then slumps over on the table and rests his chin on his crossed arms. Maybe he could cook an early dinner even though he’s not hungry; at least it’ll give him something to pass the time.

One quick glance at the clock, however, immediately dismisses that notion. It’s barely three even though it feels like it should already be bedtime, which is just classic. Suddenly, Sicheng wishes he’d just crashed with Jeno and Jaemin or even Mark and Lucas; at least he’d have some company that way.

Goddammit; when and how did his life turn this _empty_?

Fortunately or unfortunately, before he can delve any deeper into painfully depressing thoughts, his phone buzzes once again.

_office idiots two point oh_

_Park Chanyeol: Just a friendly reminder about the retreat next weekend! Make sure to pack appropriate clothing—mountains can get cold at night!—and if you’re one of the drivers (meaning Seungwan, Johnny, and myself) make sure you get enough gas the night before!_

Ah, yes. At least he won’t be all alone next week. Not when he’s gonna be stuck in a tent on some mountain with all his chaotic coworkers. Fun, fun.

Now that Chanyeol’s mentioned it, though, Sicheng realizes he doesn’t have any appropriate clothing for an outdoor retreat. In his jaded, emotionally scarred mental state after the fight, he’d only thought to throw some work clothes and a couple T-shirts and joggers into the duffel bag. Clearly he lacked the ability to plan ahead, because otherwise he would’ve packed more than just two pairs of casual clothing when the retreat lasts for an entire week. He could always say fuck it and show up in slacks and and a button up shirt, but he’d stick out like a sore thumb next to his summery friends and they’d surely laugh at him. And it’s not like he can borrow any of Ten’s clothes, because curse that man for his severe lack of height. Jeno and Jaemin are both around his height, but their clothes are a bit too, how to say, _Gen Z_ for Sicheng (yes he himself counts as Gen Z, but not to the same extent as the 2000s boys).

Which leaves him with only one option left: Fetching some of his own clothes from Yuta’s.

Not exactly the most inviting choice, considering the fact that Sicheng hasn’t set foot in the place for weeks and he’s not sure if he trusts himself in a one-on-one setting with Yuta. Yes, Yuta smiles at him and playfully pokes him and sends him short but sweet morning and night messages, but they still haven’t actually spoken for real since the argument two weeks ago. Of course Sicheng wants to talk to him and tell him every regret he’s had since running away that night— _I’m sorry. I don’t want to run away anymore. I want to be with you in every way possible. I feel empty without you. I love you._ He wants to say something, anything, so, so badly, but the only problem is, _how?_

_Idiot. You’re never gonna get anywhere by sitting on your ass and not doing anything._

He checks the clock again, which is frustratingly stuck at 3:15. Yuta usually spends Saturday afternoons out with Ten and Seungwan or his JSA friends while Sicheng’s out with Sooyoung and Taeil. If Sicheng leaves now, there’s a fifty-fifty chance Yuta will be out, which means he can quietly let himself in, take some clothes, and go. If Yuta’s home…in that case, they’ve got to talk.

The thing is, Sicheng’s not sure which odd he prefers.

_Should I knock?_

_Why bother when you have the key?_

_But I haven’t been here for a while, how could I just walk in like I own the place?_

_True, you definitely can’t do that since that idea is what made you run in the first place._

_Fuck off. So do I knock or not?_

_He’s probably out anyway._

_But what if he’s not? He doesn’t go out every Saturday!_

_You’re really about to work yourself up when it’s likely no one’s in there to respond?_

_But what if he’s actually home?_

_Then you stop being a coward and talk to him. Now unlock the fucking door._

Judging by the way the old lady next door keeps shooting him quizzical looks, Sicheng probably looks like an idiot standing outside the door for god knows how long with what he can only assume to be a face somewhere between terrified and petrified. Despite the less brave side of his brain still crying out in protest, Sicheng hastily stabs his key into the lock and hurries inside before his neighbor can call the cops on a suspicious sighting.

Once inside, however, his throat closes up and refuses to let air through. Sicheng’s eyes dart to the living room and then the kitchen, cold relief flooding his system when he finds both empty. So Yuta’s out, then. On the bright side, that makes this experience relatively painless.

Wrong.

Because as Sicheng pushes open the bedroom door and is in the midst of planning which clothes to take, he hears it: the running of the shower. A string of curses nearly slips out, but he clamps a hand over his mouth and casts a furtive glance at the door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom. Thankfully it’s closed, but that’s definitely Yuta in there, softly singing some song in Japanese as water patters against the curtain and the bathtub. 

Well _, shit._

_Calm down, Sicheng. Breathe. It’s not a big deal. He can’t hear you over the shower, so just grab some shit and get out of here as fast as you can._

_No, dumbass. Wait for him to finish and then talk to him, obviously._

_Nope. Not a chance. Hurry up and get moving already while there’s still time!_

_Stop trying to run away from your problems._

_I mean, it’s been working out so far, right?_

_You can only run for so long, Sicheng._

_Ehhh. I’ll take my chances._

_Stay._

_Run._

_Stay!_

_Run!_

“Oh, hi?”

_Fuck._

Sicheng takes a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and exhale, then forces himself to lift his chin. At some point during his mental back and forth, Yuta must have finished his shower and come out after slipping on a black shirt and athletic shorts. He’s staring back at Sicheng with surprised yet curious eyes as he towels his damp hair, lips slightly parted as he tilts his head and waits for a response.

Everyone’s got a fight or flight instinct, but Sicheng would like to suggest an alternative to his specific type of behavior: ramble or run. And with his feet seemingly rooted into place and knees trembling at Yuta’s gaze, he goes with the former.

“Don’t mind me, just here to get some more clothes!” He titters nervously at an uncharacteristically loud, cringeworthy volume. The panic sets in as Sicheng quickly turns to hide his burning face and yanks open the closet door, snatching shirts and jeans at random from what he thinks is his side of the closet. “Y’know, for the retreat and all. Can’t show up in work clothes or else I’d look like a nerd, and Ten’s stuff would be too short on me. Hah, can you imagine that? Me, wearing Ten’s clothes? That’d be so funny—oh hey, I forgot I had this hoodie. It’s nice, right? I should totally wear it on the trip. Anyway, sorry for intruding like this. I thought you’d be out so I didn’t bother knocking, and then I got really surprised when I heard the shower running. I probably scared you, didn’t I, showing up unannounced and everything? Well, don’t worry—I’ll be out in a sec! Just let me grab some stuff from here—” Sicheng wrenches the top drawer of the dresser open and throws a few pairs of boxers and socks into his duffel bag “—and that’s all! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just—”

“Sicheng,” Yuta interjects, light voice eliciting chills down Sicheng’s spine. “Winko, let’s just—”

Hearing the doting nickname just throws Sicheng’s brain into mayhem because _he doesn’t deserve to still be called that, goddammit_. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He yelps at the top of his lungs, struggling with the zipper of his bag. “Kun and the others are planning on coming down to Seoul in a month or so. Would it be alright for us to house some of them?”

Too late does Sicheng realize that he said _us_. Timidly, he dares to meet Yuta’s eyes and nearly reels back from the tenderness in them. _After all the times I’ve made you sad and everything I’ve done, how can you still look at me like that?_

Yuta is the first to break eye contact as he dips his head and replies with simple, “Of course, Sicheng,” that both melts and freezes Sicheng all over again.

_I’m sorry. I don’t want to run away anymore. I want to be with you in every way possible. I feel empty without you. I love you._

_Say it out loud then, you fool._

“Thanks,” Sicheng twists his lips up into an awkward smile, only to let it drop when Yuta doesn’t lift his head. _I’m sorry. I love you._ “I guess I’ll be on my way, then. See you at work. Don’t forget about the retreat.”

A spirit must have possessed him as he makes for the hallway, because that’s the only way to explain what happens next.

Just as he’s about to set foot outside the bedroom, it’s like a switch flips on in his brain that causes his feet to swivel and move like they have a mind of their own. Suddenly, he’s standing before Yuta with only inches of space between them, and when Yuta finally looks up with confusion lining his face the only thoughts in Sicheng’s head are _I’m sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

He’s a man starved, and Yuta is the only cure for this kind of emptiness.

Before he can even think of having second thoughts, Sicheng’s hands clutch at the collar of Yuta’s shirt and he lurches forward to kiss him.

_I love you so much, and it's scary as hell._

The spell is broken just as Yuta’s about to kiss back, and then Sicheng stumbles back until he’s reached the door. “Just a little more time,” he blurts out, meeting Yuta’s stunned gaze with what he hopes to be a promising one. “Just wait for me a little longer—I’m coming back, I swear.” _Because every day without you hurts more than the day before._

Sicheng scurries out before Yuta can reply, the last sight of Yuta touching his fingers to his lips etched into his memory.

_Park Sooyoung to Dong Sicheng_

_Park Sooyoung: Are you SURE you can’t make dinner tonight? The offer still stands._

_Dong Sicheng: I’d love to, but I really should stay in. Gotta finish some last minute planning for the retreat and all, y’know._

_Park Sooyoung: Ah. I see._

_Park Sooyoung: Well, have fun with that. Wish me luck since I’m inevitably gonna end up as Taeil and Doyoung’s third wheel._

_Dong Sicheng: Hahaha, good luck. At this point we probably have to add Doyoung to our circle since Taeil-hyung keeps bringing him along._

_Park Sooyoung: Yeah, we sure do >_< The wine threesome are now the wine foursome, I guess._

_Park Sooyoung: Anyway, I’m heading out now so I’ll talk to you later. Say hi to Yuta for me._

_Dong Sicheng: Yeah. Will do._

_Moon Taeil to Dong Sicheng_

_Moon Taeil: Mornnnnning! What say you to lunch in a few hours?_

_Dong Sicheng: Can’t, sorry. I came down with something overnight and feel like shit._

_Moon Taeil: Oh noooo :’( I was hoping to treat you since you missed dinner last night, but we can take a rain check. Feel better soon <3_

_Moon Taeil: On an unrelated note, which of these do you think suits Doyoung better?_

_Moon Taeil: [Attachment] [Attachment] [Attachment]_

_Dong Sicheng: Uhhhh, the third one? I feel like he’d like a mini cactus more than flowers._

_Moon Taeil: Exactly what I thought. Thanks, Sichengie~!_

Ten scrolls to the right and all but shoves his phone into Sicheng’s face. “And this is Taeyong with his little nephew—isn’t he just the cutest? Oooh, and this one of Jae and Johnny is one of my favorites! Hottest guys in the whole venue, that’s for sure. Oh man, you should’ve seen when Yong threw the bouquet because guess who caught it? Johnny-hyung! The look on his face was fucking priceless as it sank in that I was about to chase after him again. I made sure to keep shouting stuff like ‘Give me that ring!’, ‘We’re meant to be!’ and ‘You’re stuck with me for life!’ Oh my god, as I was closing in on him he literally hurled the thing at me and yelled, ‘Begone, demon!’ Taeyong and Jaehyun were laughing their asses off and I was dying too.”

About an hour ago, Sicheng had been peacefully meditating on the couch—it’s relaxing, okay?—with atmospheric nature music playing from his phone when Ten quite literally kicked the door open and scared the shit out of him. 

“I’m baaaaaaaack!” Ten crowed, overnight bag carelessly flung over his shoulderas his arms were otherwise occupied by takeout bags.

“I can see that,” Sicheng groaned, clutching his poor ears and steadying his rapid heartbeat. “I can _hear_ it, too.”

Ten stuck his tongue out as he flopped onto the couch next to him, dumping the takeout bags on the coffee table. “Please, I know you missed me,” he scoffed, jostling Sicheng’s shoulder in a playful manner. “And I come bearing food, so you’d better start showing me some more respect.”

After that dramatic entrance, Ten switched on the TV to some idol survival program and scarfed down his katsu curry, chattering away about “hottest couple in the world” Taeyong and Jaehyun’s wedding and other mischief he and Johnny got up to whilst in Jeonju. In the middle of a cringeworthy performance by trainees who were definitely too shaky and inexperienced, Sicheng remembered Jeno and Jaemin’s muffins and stuck the remaining ones in the microwave. Ten’s eyes lit up at the sweet treats, crying out about how “Lee Jeno is the best intern ever!” before taking a huge bite out of a muffin.

When the show cut to the evil edited portions, Ten decided that he’d had enough of watching teenage boys suffering and occupied himself with showing Sicheng wedding pictures (“We actually got to eat cake this time since someone didn’t steal it.” “Yeah, fuck you, too.”)

For the most part, Sicheng had been greatly enjoying his Sunday evening. The past hour was definitely a step up from the stiflingly boring rest of his weekend, and Ten’s always good company. But Ten’s talk about the bouquet toss and the way he so flippantly jokes about getting a ring from Johnny doesn’t sit well with Sicheng, stirring up uneasy feelings in his stomach.

“Has Yuta said anything about me?” Sicheng inquires delicately, purposefully avoiding looking at Ten as he awkwardly shifts in his seat. 

Ten doesn’t seem surprised by the question, or at least he doesn’t show it. He shrugs, responds, “I mean, he knows you’re with me and sometimes he’ll ask how you’re doing when Seungwan’s not there, but other than that, no. Yuta’s Yuta, you know how he is.”

_Yuta’s Yuta._ The only way to explain so much and so little at the same time.

Sicheng picks at his fingernails, then dares to ask, “Does he seem, I don’t know, _sad_ to you?”

Ten merely shrugs again. “Yuta’s Yuta,” he repeats sagely. “The type of person you can know without ever actually _knowing_. Sometimes I don’t even think I know much about him at all, but that’s how he’s always been. I think he prefers it that way, too—letting people think he’s this chill and easygoing guy when he’s actually way too good at hiding how he feels for his own good.”

_You make me so happy. But sometimes, you also make me so sad._

Regardless of whether Yuta wants to be hard to read, it doesn’t change the fact that Sicheng hurt him and didn’t know. They’re supposed to be partners, goddammit; the worst part is that Sicheng knew very well that he was pushing Yuta away in both small and big ways, yet he assumed like a fucking idiot that Yuta hadn't noticed. 

“This is going to sound kinda mean, but you guys really are a match made in heaven,” Ten remarks, studying Sicheng’s face with his feline eyes. Once again, Sicheng’s jolted with the feeling of being studied and picked apart the way only a child could observe, while also being analyzed by eyes too shrewd to be innocent.

Ten throws his empty takeout container and utensils into the original bag, taking his time to wipe his hands and smooth down the fabric of his jeans. “You both hide your emotions a lot and seem to think it’s for the best. You also constantly have this ‘I’m fine’ defense mechanism at the ready that literally no one falls for. But then you’re also super soft for others, too? I don’t know, that’s just some of the stuff I’ve noticed. Actually, it’s probably a bad sign that both of you are so secretive. You’re a tsundere and he likes being mysterious—ha, imagine how your kids are gonna turn out!”

_Kids. Har, har, har…_

Filing cabinet.

“Do you really mean it? What you said to Johnny?” Sicheng asks quietly, poking at his katsu that suddenly doesn’t look quite as appealing as it did a second ago. 

Ten turns to him with a raised brow, so Sicheng further explains, “That you want to marry him and all. Like, as in marry him right now?”

“Oh, hell no,” Ten laughs, flicking his wrist dismissively. “Not now, at least. I mean, yeah I definitely want to end up with him until death do us part, blah blah blah, the whole shebang. But marriage, now? After six months? Definitely out of the question.”

“Besides,” he adds after a moment’s pause. “It was already kinda disorienting to finally get together after ten years worth of pining, so we both agreed to just let things happen naturally. Things have been nice since nothing feels rushed or forced; we’re pretty happy right now so why bother changing anything?”

Sicheng gingerly nibbles at a piece of chicken. “Right,” he agrees. “Why bother changing anything. Uh huh.”

Change is nothing but a bitch, but it’s ultimately inevitable. Sooyoung getting married? Change. Taeil admitting he’s lonely and finding a kindred spirit in Doyoung? Change. Lucas moving to Seoul to be with Mark? Change. Jeno moving in with Jaemin so early in their relationship? Change. Ten and Johnny finally becoming a couple after a decade of miscommunication? Change. Chanyeol learning how to become a better father? Change. Baekhyun starting over for the second time? Change. Inevitable.

So why is Sicheng the only one who’s afraid of change? How are all the people around him taking these big leaps when he’s still afraid of a single step?

“Wow, Taeil-hyung’s right. You really do overthink super loudly,” Ten marvels as he nonchalantly picks up his second chocolate muffin. 

Sicheng winces. “Sorry. I can’t help it.”

“Actuallyyoucancan,” Ten tsks, words blurring together thanks to the chocolate stuffed in his mouth. He swallows, then brandishes his index finger at Sicheng, says, “First, you could try talking out loud instead of having internal arguments with yourself. That way you’d stop bottling things in all the time, which would then make it easier to have serious conversations without wanting to run away, and then you could finally get to the bottom of your commitaphobic tendencies. See? The root cause of your problems is that you prefer to overthink instead of talk: simple.”

Dumbstruck, Sicheng can do nothing but stare at Ten, jaw slack and eyes wide. “Um,” he begins, searching for a rebuttal and coming up with jack shit. “Um. Well. _Well._ Uhhhh…”

Calmly, Ten breaks off a chunk of muffin and shoves it into Sicheng’s gaping mouth. “There there,” he simpers, patting Sicheng’s hair like he would to a disgruntled kitten. “The truth hurts, I know. Suck it up.”

When the _hell_ did Ten become such a little shit? What happened to Ten the clown, the one Sicheng chased around the office and beat up with a rolled up magazine? Where is that Ten, and how can Sicheng get him back? Preferably for a discounted price, too.

“Don’t look at me like that—I’m capable of wisdom, too! I do have almost two years of life experience over you, you rascal,” Ten snickers, popping the rest of the muffin into his mouth. 

“I hate you,” Sicheng decides, swallowing his muffin without chewing because what better way to assert dominance than nearly choking? “But fine, you’re right. This time. I guess.”

Maybe this Ten isn’t so bad after all.

_From: Seo Youngho_

_To: Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: Retreat Guidelines (IMPORTANT!)_

_Good afternoon,_

_As I’m sure many of you already know, your annual summer retreat will be held at a cabin belonging to a friend of mine (you can thank Ten for that). My friend says everything’s fine, but since the cabin doesn’t belong to me I’d like to establish a few guidelines first._

  1. _Please don’t destroy any of the property. Hansol would kill me._
  2. _No smoking or excessive drinking. I still work in HR, you know._
  3. _There are only three bedrooms and fourteen of us (Ten has convinced me to come along), so a lot of people will have to sleep in tents. Ten’s already claimed a bedroom for the two of us, but I’ll let the rest of you decide the rest of the sleeping arrangements._
  4. _This is the most important one so please, PLEASE, I’m begging you all to listen: UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WILL THERE BE ANY FORNICATION ALLOWED. If I can keep Ten’s hands away from me (which is a HUGE struggle because damn is he handsy), the rest of you have to practice celibacy for a few days, too._



_Thank you and have a great rest of your day. Let’s have a great trip this weekend! :D_

_Johnny Seo_

_Human Resources, Taeng &Co Incheon Branch_

_From: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul_

_To: Seo Youngho, Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: RE Retreat Guidelines (IMPORTANT!)_

_What do you mean, no fornication allowed? You can’t even make an exception for me? :’(_

_From: Kim Doyoung_

_To: Seo Youngho, Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: RE RE Retreat Guidelines (IMPORTANT!)_

_Was it entirely necessary to click “Reply to all” instead of just “Reply”? Seriously, you twink?_

_-Dons_

_From: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul_

_To: Kim Doyoung_

_Subject: I took your advice (fight me, bitch)_

_Oops. My sincere apologies._

_From: Seo Youngho_

_To: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul_

_Subject: I regret everything_

_Ten, I’m serious. Hansol would kill me._

_From: Park Chanyeol_

_To: Johnny Seo, Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: ANYWAY_

_Got it. All the guidelines sound good._

_Please, for the love of God, no one violate them. I’m begging. I do not need CEO Kim to schedule us another meeting with a counselor after last year’s disaster._

_Speaking of which, I’d like to reiterate another rule: No pranking allowed. The retreat’s meant to be all fun and games, but do we really need a repeat of last year’s infamous pranking war? If you all truly love me, the answer would be no :)_

_Park Chanyeol_

_Regional Manager of the Taeng &Co Seoul Branch_

_From: Kim Jongdae_

_To: Seo Youngho, Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: Don’t kid yourself, Yeol_

_You already know these brats don’t love you enough to stop. Therefore, I must step in to say that if I see a single prank this trip, I will shove the offender off the mountain. No exceptions ^_^_

_Kim Jongdae_

_Assistant Regional Manager_

_Taeng &Co Seoul Branch_

_From: Son Seungwan_

_To: Kim Jongdae, Seo Youngho, Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: I’d like to see you try_

_Because if you shove me off the mountain, my ghost will come back to haunt you._

_Son Seungwan/Wendy Son/Accountant Extraordinaire_

_From: Seo Youngho_

_To: Seoul Private Team_

_Subject: Alright, let’s all just settle down_

_The point is, we’re all going to have a great time :D And please don’t kill each other, PLEASE. I’ll send more details once I have the time, but I look forward to spending the week with you all!_

_Johnny Seo_

_Human Resources, Taeng &Co Incheon Branch_

The morning of the much-awaited retreat, Sicheng shoulders his trusty duffel bag and takes the subway with Ten. He can’t even remember the last time he took public transportation since he’s gotten so used to having his own car, resulting in a rather embarrassing moment that shall never be spoken of again when Ten has to show him exactly which ticket to buy and how to buy said ticket. 

“How can you be a functioning adult when you can’t even figure out the subway lines?” Ten snorts, herding Sicheng by the elbow towards the correct platform.

Sicheng glares. “How can you be a functioning adult when you can’t even drive?”

“Ouch. Low blow, Sicheng. Take it back.”

The team always meets at the front entrance of the building so Chanyeol can count heads and double check that they have the necessary supplies. Johnny volunteered to be one of the drivers, but he couldn’t make it back to Seoul last night because he had to stay overtime in order to finish the week's worth of work he’ll be missing, so he told the team he’d meet them at Taeng&Co. By the time Ten and Sicheng show up, the majority of their coworkers are already there, donning casual summer outfits and chatting excitedly.

“Hyuuuung!” Jeno calls, waving frantically. To no one’s surprise, he and Jaemin are wearing matching couple shoes and jewelry because of course they would.

“What’s up, kid?” Ten grins, ruffling Jeno’s hair and looking funny in the process because of their noticeable height difference. “Are you ready for your first retreat, huh?”

Jeno salutes. “Yes, sir!”

Jaemin throws an arm around his boyfriend. “Please stop saying that. I’m gonna kill Lucas for ever teaching you that,” he groans with no real malice as he nuzzles his cheek against Jeno’s.

“Yes, sir!”

As the cute couple bicker, Sicheng sweeps his gaze around to observe his colleagues. Sooyoung, Taeil, and Doyoung are standing off to the side and laughing about something. Judging by the way Sooyoung’s got tears in her eyes and keeps slapping Doyoung’s arm, she must have warmed up to him real fast. Chanyeol and Jongdae both carry clipboards as they double check attendance and supplies. Lucas is either playing with Mark's hair or giving him a noogie, it's all a bit ambiguous (now that he really looks, Sicheng has to admit that Mark does resemble a baby lion after all. Seungwan’s helping load boxes into the backs of the three cars with the help of Johnny, who must have just rolled in.

With a frown, Sicheng narrows his eyes and counts heads again. 

_Where’s Yuta?_

A sharp elbow digs into his ribs. “He’s felt a little sick since yesterday so Johnny picked him up on the way. Should be in the car right now,” Ten whispers lowly.

_Oh._

“Alright! Everyone ready to go?” Chanyeol’s voice booms across the sidewalk. In true Dad fashion, he’s dressed in Nike sneakers, white mid-calf socks, cargo shorts with an unnecessary number of pockets, a college sweatshirt, and a baseball cap. Next to him, Jongdae is practically identical, with the only difference being the name on his sweatshirt (good lord, is this really what happens once you have kids? Tragic).

“Yessir!” Lucas and Jeno shout back in unison, much to the chagrin of their boyfriends.

Chanyeol grins, clapping his hands together in excitement. “Well, what are we waiting for? We’ve got three cars and fourteen of us, so sit anywhere there’s space. See you all in a few hours!”

All hell breaks loose as the team members scramble for the cars, shouts of “Shotgun!” and “No fair, I was here first!” filling the air. Sicheng, however, doesn’t move, simply watching his friends run off with a fond smile. 

The youngest four infiltrate Seungwan’s car, with Lucas victorious in the passenger seat (“My long legs are a godsend!”). Ten of course joins Johnny in his car, and the back door is open but there’s only one person in the backseat, slouching and staring out the window.

Sicheng’s breath hitches as his mind all but shuts down and his feet shuffle across the sidewalk, willing him over in his hypnotic state. Because the only thing he’s aware of now is _Yuta, Yuta, Yuta_ and it’s been so fucking long. Seeing each other at the office every day is nothing when it’s been a week since they kissed and three since they shared a bed, and it’s only now that Sicheng fully realizes how utterly idiotic he’d been for running. How could he run away from someone like Yuta? How?

He opens his mouth to call out a greeting or just anything to catch Yuta’s attention, but then a frigid hand clamps over his wrist.

“Morning, Sicheng,” an all too familiar voice hisses in his ear. Long nails dig into his skin as Sooyoung forcefully leads—more like drags—him away from Johnny’s car, away from Yuta. 

Sooyoung’s face is stoic and completely devoid of emotion, yet the way she speaks with hushed, ominous composure is nothing short of deadly. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, mister,” she announces flatly.

_I’m so fucking dead_. “Oh, really?” Sicheng feigns ignorance, voice jumping a few octaves too high. “Like what? Can’t this wait until we get to the campsite? Soo? Please?”

“No,” Sooyoung snaps shortly.

She stops at Chanyeol’s car, then shoves Sicheng forward. “Get in the car, Sicheng,” Sooyoung deadpans, the slight arch of her eyebrow showing that she means all business. “I’m giving you three more seconds and if you’re not in the car, I will leave you to die on the street.”

Jongdae, who’s in the passenger seat, twists around to shoot them a weird look. “In case you haven’t noticed, this car is for five people, not six,” he points out, gesturing to the two already in the backseat. “I think you should cut him some slack, Sooyoung. Interrogate him when we get there instead of now.”

Sooyoung just scoffs. She snaps her fingers and commands, “Taeil-oppa, you sit on Doyoung’s lap.”

Taeil doesn’t even hesitate. “Sure, why not?” He agrees easily, already maneuvering from the middle seat to a perch on Doyoung’s thighs.

“I’m guessing I don’t get a say in the matter?” Doyoung wonders out loud to no one in particular.

“Nope, sorry honey. Be a dear and fasten the seatbelt, won’t you?” Taeil simpers, blinking owlishly at his, er, whatever he and Doyoung call themselves.

The sight of Doyoung fastening the seatbelt over both him and Taeil is enough to knock Sicheng back to his senses (and want to gag in the process because ew, PDA). “Alright, what the hell is going on?” He demands, aiming a glower at the still stone-faced Sooyoung. “Why are you forcing me to sit in here? You can’t just drag me here without telling me why and expect me to—”

“Sicheng. Get in the fucking car.”

The next thing he knows, he’s crammed in the middle seat with the bizarre couple on one side and an icily fuming Sooyoung on the other. Chanyeol makes eye contact with him through the rearview mirror and offers him a sympathetic grin, whereas Jongdae clearly finds the whole situation funny because he won’t stop snickering. He’s so consumed by devious giggles that he nearly drops the toddler on his lap and—

“Uncle Win!”

_—hold up._

Sicheng blinks once, then twice, then thrice for good measure to make sure this is real and not just some fever dream. Because _literally what the fuck is Park Jisung doing here?_

“Uncle Win!” Jisung cheers again, clambering on top of Jongdae’s lap to peek his little head over the seat and beam at Sicheng. “Yay, Uncle Win!”

“You brought your son,” Sicheng speaks through gritted teeth as he soullessly waves at an ecstatic Jisung.

Chanyeol’s face is nothing short of sheepish. “I told him I’d be gone for a week and he insisted on coming,” the manager explains lamely.

“You brought your son,” Sicheng reiterates blankly. “Your two year old son. To a team retreat. In the mountains. With fourteen adults. Who will be drinking. And are total idiots. Yet you brought your son anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that it sounds a bit irresponsible when you put it that way.”

“You are officially the worst father of the year.”

“Can’t say I don’t deserve that.”

Jongdae laughs. “Hey, cut him some slack! It’s not easy finding someone to watch over a toddler for an entire week. Originally Jisungie was going to stay with Sunyoung and the kids, but then she told me that she’ll castrate me if she has to deal with any more screaming children. Pretty sure it’s just the hormones speaking, but better safe than sorry.”

“Wait,” Doyoung stops flirting with Taeil long enough to crane his neck over and peer at Jongdae with a skeptical look. “It’s June, right? So doesn’t that mean Sunyoung-noona is due like, any day now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jongdae confirms airily. “It’s supposed to be next week, but kids come early or late all the time.”

Doyoung furrows his brow. “So shouldn’t you probably be with her at home just in case instead of, um, on a week long retreat with crappy cell service?”

“Aww, you’re so caring, sweetie,” Taeil coos (Sicheng would gag, but he’s too done to even dignify the couple with a response).

“That’s what I said too, but then she said she’d behead me if I didn’t get out of the apartment ASAP. Probably the hormones again, but she really seemed dead set on getting rid of me.”

“You are also the worst father of the year,” Sicheng deadpans.

Jongdae opens his mouth to protest, then shrugs. “My wife would back that up.”

“Can we just go already?” Sooyoung points out dryly, raking a hand through her long hair and impatiently tapping her foot. “In case you haven’t noticed, Johnny and Seungwan already drove away like five minutes ago.”

“Do you even realize how many traffic safety laws we’re violating?” Sicheng snarks under his breath.

Chanyeol’s eyes light up in alarm. “Oh god, how bad do you think we look? Like, would an officer pull us over because it’s so blatantly obvious?” He frets, nervously wetting his lip and anxiously checking all around the car.

Sicheng resists the urge to roll his eyes because even that would take more effort than this car full of idiots would deserve. “There are four of us in the backseat, two of whom are sharing a seatbelt. For some reason I’m in the middle seat even though I’m the tallest, which almost definitely means I’m blocking your rearview mirror. Finally, your son— _your two year old son_ —is sitting without a carseat on someone’s lap in the front. Just let that all sink in.”

“Eh,” Jongdae yawns, lazily scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding Jisung in place with the other. “Whatever, as long as we don’t crash or get caught. I say floor it, Yeol!”

There is not a single thing in this life that Sicheng doesn’t regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me while writing this chapter: Hehehe this is gonna be all crack!  
> Me after finishing: Oops.


	7. the retreat goes to hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I'm sorry for how long it took to finish this, but college started back up and it's been pretty hectic. This chapter also took forever because it's 21k words, so please accept it as an apology. And I promise I wasn't high while writing this.
> 
> There are probably a bunch of typos because I'm terrible at editing but gah.

  * _Feeling that V_



_Dong Sicheng: I wanna die._

_Huang Guanheng: Good morning to you too, Sicheng-ge._

_Dong Sicheng: Are you completely disregarding my previous statement?_

_Qian Kun: Yup. I mean, what else is new?_

_Dong Sicheng: I hate you._

_Xiao Dejun: What’d you do now, ge?_

_Dong Sicheng: Why are you assuming I was the one who did something?_

_Xiao Dejun: So you’re saying you didn’t?_

_Qian Kun: He definitely did._

_Huang Xuxi: Can confirm—I saw him get dragged across the sidewalk and into a car._

_Qian Kun: What_

_Xiao Dejun: …_

_Huang Guanheng: That really doesn’t sound right._

_Dong Sicheng: Oh my god, Xuxi—context! It’s not like some random stranger kidnapped me; my friend Sooyoung is just mad at me. And now I’m stuck in a car with an angry Sooyoung, a couple that makes me want to throw up because of their PDA, a toddler, and two dads who won’t stop talking about dad shit like beginners dance classes and multiplication tables._

_Xiao Dejun: Ahhh, I see. So, once again, what’d you do now, ge?_

_Qian Kun: Oh he definitely did something, he’s just too stubborn to admit it._

_Dong Sicheng: I don’t know??? Like she’s not saying anything, she’s just sitting with her arms crossed and refuses to answer me???_

_Huang Xuxi: It’s probably ‘cause he didn’t tell her about being temporarily homeless._

_Huang Guanheng: HUH?! BEG PARDON??????????_

_Dong Sicheng: what_

_Qian Kun: UMM………._

_Dong Sicheng: I—_

_Xiao Dejun: WHAT’S GOING ON_

_Huang Xuxi: O_O wait I thought everyone already knew? At least, everyone at work knows._

_Dong Sicheng: WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVERYONE AT WORK ALREADY KNOWS?_

_Huang Xuxi: I mean, come on, ge—not talking to Yuta-hyung during work and driving around with Ten all the time?_

_Dong Sicheng: Was I that obvious? Oh my god…_

_Huang Xuxi: Well to be fair I didn’t really notice anything until Ten-hyung told us you were staying with him._

_Dong Sicheng: …hang on…_

_Dong Sicheng to Ten_

_Dong Sicheng: MOTHERFUCKER_

_Ten: What a pleasant surprise._

_Dong Sicheng: I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WEREN’T GOING TO TELL ANYONE???_

_Ten: Correction: you told me not to tell Sooyoung and Taeil. As far as I’m concerned, everyone else was fair game._

_Dong Sicheng: So how come Sooyoung and Taeil know?_

_Ten: Oh, because I told them too._

_Dong Sicheng: EXCUSE ME BITCH WHAT_

_Ten: I never actually agreed to your terms, did I? You just assumed I did._

_Dong Sicheng: …_

_Ten: Have fun! Hope the ride isn’t too awkward! :D_

_Dong Sicheng: I’m going to skin you alive the second I see you again._

_Ten: Pfft, if anything you should be thanking me for doing your dirty work for you._

_Feeling that V_

_Qian Kun: So wait, why are you homeless? Did you and Yuta break up?_

_Huang Xuxi: Omg what? Nooooo I was rooting for you guys TT_TT my favorite couple in the office, dead just like that._

_Dong Sicheng: No no no of course not._

_Qian Kun: Then are you on, ah, what’s that thing couples say?_

_Huang Guanheng: A break?_

_Dong Sicheng: No…_

_Xiao Dejun: Then why aren’t you talking?_

_Dong Sicheng: Well…because we had a fight, I guess._

_Xiao Dejun: And how long ago was this fight? Just how long have you been homeless, ge?_

_Dong Sicheng: Just a few weeks, that’s all._

_Qian Kun: A FEW WEEKS?_

_Qian Kun: Christ, Sicheng—how are you so calm about this? When you mentioned something was wrong I never would’ve guessed that you haven’t been home in weeks._

_Huang Guanheng: I didn’t even know there was anything wrong…_

_Xiao Dejun: Neither did I_

_Dong Sicheng: It’s not_

_Dong Sicheng: Well I’m not calm at all_

_Dong Sicheng: I don’t know how to explain it._

_Huang Guanheng: You know what ge, that’s fine. Not gonna lie I’m a bit sad you didn’t tell us you weren’t doing so great, but I’m sure you had your reasons. Just tell us once we’re in Seoul, please?_

_Dong Sicheng: I guess. I’m sorry for everything._

_Qian Kun: It’s fine, Sicheng. Just no more hiding, okay? We’re always here for you even if it’s only over the phone._

_Huang Xuxi: And you’ve got me in person! Next time you’re homeless Markie and I have a spare bedroom! :3_

_Dong Sicheng: Hahahaha thanks guys. Anyway, I gotta go._

_Liu Yangyang to Dong Sicheng_

_Liu Yangyang: You got this, ge :)_

“So…” Jongdae trails off, twisting around until he’s facing Sicheng in the back.

Sicheng averts his gaze and shifts uncomfortably in the godawful middle seat. “So?” He parrots back defensively.

Outside, Chanyeol’s checking his phone as he pumps gas into the car. Doyoung and Taeil went inside the gas station to buy snacks (and probably canoodle) while Sooyoung volunteered to take Jisung to the bathroom, which leaves Sicheng alone with Jongdae with in the car.

Normally, he wouldn’t mind because Jongdae is pretty chill even when he’s cussing up a storm. But right now, he really just wants to be alone.

Hot shame washes over him as the weight of Lucas’s casual remark fully hits him. _At least, everyone at work knows._ How is Sicheng even supposed to react? First anger boils his blood as he thinks of Ten’s blatant betrayal, but does he really have a right to be mad when Ten took him in and listened to him these past few weeks? When Ten’s right by pointing out that he technically never agreed to not telling and probably only did so because he knew how stupid it was for Sicheng to hide behind such a transparent veil? Because even if Ten hadn’t explicitly told the others, they would’ve all figured it out anyway based on the way Sicheng and Yuta weren’t as together and coupley anymore. If anything, Ten did him a favor by answering the others’ unspoken questions before they could directly ask Sicheng.

No, Sicheng has no right to blame Ten. Not when Ten was by far the more mature adult in the situation.

What else can he feel, then? Sad? Frustrated? Irritated? Perhaps all three? Maybe, but the feeling flooding over him from head to toe is mostly that of _embarrassment._

Not just because his colleagues were all able to read him like a book, but because Sicheng thought he was doing such a good job at concealing his issues that he only ended up dragging more people into the problem.

“Was it that obvious?” He mumbles, squeezing his hands between his knees so hard his fingers tingle from numbness.

Respectfully, Jongdae glances away and reverts back to facing forward. “Yeah, it was,” he admits bluntly, yet still gently. “It’s not every day the most domestic couple in the office suddenly pretend they don’t know each other.”

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

“You know,” Jongdae’s bright voice interrupts his gloomy thoughts. Sicheng’s always found it fascinating how, regardless of the older man’s mood, the corners of Jongdae’s lips are perpetually lifted not unlike a cat’s. Now, he can’t stop staring at those little curls.

Jongdae pauses, staring straight ahead and tapping his fingers against his armrest. The brim of his baseball cap hides his eyes as he quietly declares, “It’s okay to be scared, Sicheng. Everyone is.”

“I’m not—” Sicheng feebly attempts to counter, only to give up halfway through. Who is he kidding—of course he’s scared, that’s how he got himself into this situation in the first place. He’s been doing nothing but digging his own grave and spiraling further and further because he’s so fucking scared. Of what, he’s not quite put his finger on yet, but he knows the cold feeling clamping around his heart well enough.

Outside, Chanyeol’s putting the nozzle back into the machine when he hears a call of “Daddy!” that causes him to whip his head up. Panic flashes through his eyes as he rushes across the lot to sweep Jisung into his arms. “It’s not safe to run across the parking lot, Jwi!” Chanyeol cries out, frantically clutching his son to his chest despite the lack of any other cars besides theirs in the immediate area.

A sheepish Sooyoung hastily exits the gas station, bowing her head in shame as she apologizes to Chanyeol for losing sight of Jisung. Behind her, Taeil and Doyoung emerge with arms full of junk food and drinks.

Sicheng’s so engrossed in watching the others that he almost doesn’t hear Jongdae say, “They’re all scared, too.”

“Huh?” Sicheng blinks, ripping his gaze away from their friends. “What do you mean?” As far as he’s aware, the only one who looks like they could pass for scared would be Chanyeol, and even then it’s more like a brief panic as he worried for his son’s safety.

Jongdae hums, the timbre of his voice eerily similar to Baekhyun’s. “As in, figuratively scared, not necessarily right now. Life is a bitch sometimes, you know?”

Sicheng furrows his brows. If this is Jongdae trying to impart some words of wisdom, he isn’t doing that great of a job at if because literally what the hell is he talking about?

“You should’ve seen Chanyeol when he found out he was going to be a father,” Jongdae muses, resting his chin on his knuckles as he watches the way Jisung makes grabby hands for the brim of Chanyeol’s hat. Chanyeol obliges, tucking his hat onto Jisung’s much too small head with an adoring smile.

“He knew Jisung wasn’t just a life to raise, but also the end of his marriage. That was without a doubt the darkest place I’ve ever seen him in, and he’s still got those scars as well as plenty of others. Maybe he doesn’t look like it now, but I guarantee that he still wakes up scared every day, terrified he’s going to fuck up everything he’s built. I know because that’s how I feel every day, too. Because that’s how everyone feels.”

The icy hand over Sicheng’s heart tightens its grip. “Then how do you make it go away?” He demands, desperate for this horrible, nauseating feeling that’s been plaguing his body for the past few weeks to leave and never come back.

From his angle in the backseat, Sicheng can just barely make out a smile on Jongdae’s lips. “That’s just the thing: you can’t make it go away. All you can do is live with it, day by day.”

That wasn’t quite the answer Sicheng was searching for, nor does it put him at ease in any way whatsoever. Grimacing, he squeezes his hands even tighter and grits his teeth, the memory of Yuta touching his lips flashing through his head.

Jongdae lets out a soft chuckle. As the others make their way back to the car, he quietly, almost inaudibly, remarks, “If you want to make your life a little easier, though, you could always try talking. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

Before Sicheng can mull over that advice, the sound of knuckles rapping on the window distracts him back to the present. Hastily, he reaches over and unlocks the right side, then does the same with the left.

“Thanks,” Sooyoung acknowledges him with a short nod as she climbs into her seat. She doesn’t have the same stoniness in her eyes as earlier, and Sicheng thinks he can detect guilt in the thin set of her mouth.

 _She was only worried about you,_ he realizes with a pang.

Doyoung groans as he flattens himself against his seat. “Do we really have to do this again? My legs are gonna fall asleep,” he whines.

Taeil pays him no mind as he plops down on Doyoung’s thighs. “Relationships are all about compromise,” he mocks, mussing Doyoung’s hair.

“Baaaaaaabe,” Doyoung complains. Interestingly enough, he’s the one to initiate buckling the seatbelt over both of them, and there’s a huge beam on his face that doesn’t look like it’s about to be wiped away any time soon (seriously, the guy’s not slick at all).

Another pang hits him in the heart. If Sooyoung’s worried, then Sicheng can’t imagine what Taeil thinks of him. Taeil’s always come off as more aloof and less emotional, but he’s always taken care of Sicheng in subtle ways like leaving ginseng packets at his desk and saving a carton of banana milk for him in the refrigerator. He can play the preening boyfriend (is he a boyfriend? Sicheng’s not sure since the odd couple have been pretty ambiguous since the start) but Sicheng would bet his life savings that Taeil’s just as concerned as Sooyoung and that he’s been keeping a watchful eye over him during the car ride.

As Chanyeol merges back onto the road, Jongdae entertains Jisung with a downloaded episode of Peppa Pig on a tablet, Taeil tries his hand at braiding Doyoung’s hair, and Sooyoung stares out the window with her arms crossed, Sicheng picks up his phone and starts writing.

_Dong Sicheng to Park Sooyoung and Moon Taeil_

_Dong Sicheng: Hey…_

_Dong Sicheng: I know I’m literally the biggest coward for doing this over text even though we’re right next to each other, but there are other people around and I don’t want to wait so here goes._

_Dong Sicheng: I’m really sorry for a lot of things—not telling you about what happened with Yuta, keeping you in the dark all the time, and for just being selfish in general. I thought I wouldn’t make you worry by not saying anything, but clearly that was dumb of me since it was pretty obvious something was wrong._

_Dong Sicheng: I’d like to say there was a good reason or any valid reason at all for why I didn’t tell you, but all I can think of is that I was embarrassed. Because you’re both doing great in the partners department whereas I’m so stupid I potentially ruined my own relationship because of my irrational fears. And I realize that doesn’t make any sense because everyone’s different and there wasn’t a need to feel embarrassed. I mean, times like that are when people reach out to their friends, right? And instead I did the opposite when I should have opened up more._

_Dong Sicheng: So I’m just. Sorry. Really, really sorry._

Texting instead of talking isn’t exactly his smartest move, nor is it what Jongdae advised. But it’s too late for that; he’s finally written what’s needed to be said, and even though his friends deserve more than the bare minimum, he thinks it’s enough for a start.

  
“Hey, Taeil-oppa,” Sooyoung suddenly speaks up, voice not exactly cold but definitely unreadable.

Her eyes are glued to her phone, as are Taeil’s. He hums in acknowledgment, angling his screen so Doyoung can see as well.

“Yes, Soo?”

“Count down from five for me, will you?”

“Certainly.”

_Huh?_

“Five.”

From the front seat, Jongdae lets out a loud chuckle. “Oh, you’re about to get it,” he crows, shooting Sicheng a mischievous glance.

 _Literally what?_ “Get what? What am I about to get?” He responds blankly.

“Four.”

“Dae, do me a favor and cover Jisung’s ears with those headphones, please,” Chanyeol requests, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he speeds through the open road.

“Three.”

“I’m confused,” Sicheng announces to no one in particular.

Doyoung pats him on the arm in sympathy. “For what it’s worth, you deserve what’s coming,” he remarks with utmost solemnity.

“Um, thanks?”

“You’re welcome!”

“Two.”

Jongdae clamps a pair of fluffy pink headphones over Jisung’s ears. The toddler doesn’t even startle as he giggles at Peppa Pig hanging up on Suzy Sheep.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Sicheng wails in desperation. All he did was apologize—admittedly it was over text, which is always shitty, but he tried his best, okay?—what on earth could he have done to warrant such ominous behavior?

“One.”

Out of options, Sicheng grasps Taeil’s arm and demands, “Hyung, what’s going on? What did I do?”

The wicked glint in Taeil’s eyes send chills down Sicheng’s spine. “Oh, you’ll see,” he simpers sweetly, right before he announces, “Zero.”

Before Sicheng can even open his mouth to demand what the hell is going on and seriously what’s up with the cryptic ass countdown, the unmistakable sensation of knuckles colliding with his arm hits him, sending white hot spikes of pain crawling across his skin and rattling all the way down to the bone.

“Holy shit!” Sicheng screeches—his voice most certainly does not jump three octaves, _thank you very much_ —clutching the sore spot on his arm for dear life. He can’t even tell if what he’s feeling is pure pain or anger or just general confusion, because _literally what the fuck is going on, why did Sooyoung just punch him and twist to make sure he felt the ring on her fourth finger what did he do to warrant such degenerate behavior?_

“Told you you deserved it,” Doyoung snorts, not even bothering to hide his shit-eating grin.

Taeil gazes down—hah, that’s a first—at him proudly. “Right as always, Dons,” he fawns, giving Doyoung a pat on the head. “Except when you’re disagreeing with me, of course.”

“Yeah, but I’m not stupid enough to do that.”

“Right again, Doyo.”

_“Doyo”? Oh my god, can I just die already? Please let me die. Please._

Sicheng turns to Sooyoung with an incredulous look, wondering if he’s the only one witnessing such nauseating couple antics. Then he takes one glance at her stony gaze and remembers, oh yeah, she literally just punched him as hard as she could not even ten seconds ago. The surely bruising spot on his arm throbs tenfold as Sooyoung languidly inspects her immaculate nails, not even sparing Sicheng a glance as she coldly proclaims, “Don’t be such a little bitch, Sicheng—I could have punched you in the face but I decided to play nice for once.”

Internally, Sicheng gulps. _Well, when she puts it that way…_

“Thank God I remembered to pack those headphones,” Chanyeol remarks out loud, taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and ruffle Jisung’s hair. “I had a feeling there would be a lot of high tempers on this retreat, so I came prepared. Not so bad for worst dad of the year, amirite?”

Jongdae guffaws. “Please, I’m sure Jisungie’s already been exposed to enough bad language from the two of us and Sunyoung alone. Face it, Yeol: there’s no saving your son.”

“I suppose not.”

“Where’d you get these, though? I should invest in some pairs for Woo, Yerim, and the new kid.”

“Oh yeah, I found them online at a discounted price. The only color left was pink, but oh well—gotta teach kids that gender norms are completely made up early, you get me?”

“Mmhmm, you can say that again. Jungwoo wants to be a fairy for Halloween this year and I was all like hell yeah, I’ll buy you the biggest, sparkliest wings ever. Oh wait, that reminds me of how the other day, Yerim said—”

“Excuse me,” Sicheng cuts in flatly. “But if you’re done being stereotypical suburban dads, can we please get back to the main point—as in, _why the fuck did Sooyoung-noona just punch me_?”

Jongdae lifts his hat and runs a hand through his unflatteringly flattened hair. “Oh, right. That’s because it’s revenge for you being such an idiot. What else could it be for?”

Sicheng swivels around to face Sooyoung, who’s still pointedly ignoring him. “And that warranted a punch?” He snaps.

“Don’t you try and pin this on me now,” Sooyoung scowls, irritation flickering across her face. She jabs an accusing finger against his sternum, hisses, “If I just had a huge fight with Sungjae and couch hopped for a few weeks without telling you, how would you feel, huh?”

“Well, maybe you just didn’t know to tell me!”

“Oh, so you didn’t know how to open your mouth and say, ‘Hey noona, I’m going through a tough time and could do with some support’? Yeah, right!”

“Soo,” Taeil intervenes, voice soft yet warning. “I think you’re being a bit harsh.”

“Like you’re one to talk! You were just as worried as I was!”

“Of course I was—and still am—worried; but I also know that not everybody’s as straightforward as you are, Soo. Cut him some slack.”

Taeil’s voice never rises above a placating murmur, but it seems to do the trick as the hotheaded Sooyoung lets out a disgruntled noise and tightly crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she grumbles petulantly. “But just for the record, he’s still an idiot.”

Ouch, but Sicheng will take that over a punch any day of the week. Letting out a sigh of relief, he loosens his grip on the arm that went numb ages ago and relaxes back in his seat, hoping the rest of the ride can pass by peacefully and sans any further drama.

A tiny, bratty voice in his head snickers. _Bitch, you thought._

Approximately half a minute later, another fist collides with his other arm.

“Fucking hell!” Sicheng shrieks, and had it not been for his seatbelt he would’ve flown through the roof with how hard he jumped.

The perpetrator innocently waves at him. “Like Soo said, you really are an idiot,” Taeil shrugs.

 _Point made and taken._ “So I’m guessing you’re not accepting my apology?” He surmises, balefully clamping his hand over the new sore spot.

“Oh, we accept your apology,” Taeil whistles breezily. “We just had to teach you an extra lesson, that’s all.”

“Yeah, Sooyoung scoffs. “Serves you right for avoiding us and sending us into a panic like that, Dong Sicheng. I think I aged five years from these past few weeks. You owe us the next three dinners.”

“Dinners for four from now on, actually. Doyoungie here is the newest addition to the squad.”

Sicheng frowns. “Excuse me? You added him without asking? No offense,” he adds, hastily directing that last part towards Doyoung.

“All good,” the tech specialist shrugs without a care in the world, busy typing something on his phone—ew, he even has his arms circled around Taeil’s waist and everything. Gross. Just gross. Absolutely disgusting.

“Oooh, you don’t like being kept in the dark?” Sooyoung mocks. She sticks out her tongue, says, “Sucks, bitch,” and flicks him on the forehead for good measure.

“Remind me why I’m friends with you again?”

“Why? Because when you first joined almost three years ago, we were the only ones willing to invite your sorry, antisocial ass out.”

“Hey, but Yuta also approached him!” Jongdae points out helpfully.

Taeil dismissively flaps a hand at the interloper, nearly whacking Sicheng in the nose. “Nah, Yuta doesn’t count because he was whipped from the start. Unlike us, he had an ulterior motive and therefore, Soo and I are morally superior.”

“Damn right we are,” Sooyoung huffs in agreement, reaching over Sicheng to slap Taeil’s waiting palm.

Sicheng’s eye twitches. Maybe he should’ve joined the troublemaking trio instead. They may be loud and chaotic as hell, but at least they wouldn’t be annoying the way evil masterminds are. Morally superior, his ass.

“Um,” Chanyeol speaks up somewhat nervously. “So I get that this is because he didn’t tell you about his current situation with Yuta, but are Dae and I missing anything else? Like, I definitely feel like we’re missing something.”

“Yup,” Jongdae nods in agreement. On his lap, Jisung starts whining because his episode of Peppa Pig ended (“Everyone knows that true intellectuals watch Doraemon,” Taeil huffs under his breath), so Jongdae hurriedly clicks on the next episode before rotating as much as he can to face the chaotic four—four, huh. That’s gonna take a lot of getting used to—and dryly states, “Though if I had to take a guess, this whole mess got blown out of proportion because we have the three biggest tsunderes of the office in one friend group.”

 _Speak for yourself, Tsundere Supreme._ “So what I’m hearing is that this isn’t all my fault, then?” Sicheng can’t help but mutter bitterly.

“Yes, it is!” Two different voices roar in to his ears at the same time.

“It kinda is,” Doyoung supplies helpfully.

Sicheng resists the urge to roll his eyes all the way back into his head. “Can it, _Doyo_.”

“Oi!” Taeil shouts, absolutely affronted. “That’s Doyo- _hyung_ to you, you insolent brat!”

Call him petty, but Sicheng sticks his tongue out and taunts, “Don’t get too worked up, hag. Wouldn’t want you to get a heart attack or something.”

“If Taeil’s a hag, then what are we?” Chanyeol wonders miserably.

“Fucking prehistoric,” Jongdae bemoans. “Dinosaurs, I guess.”

“I mean, you do look like one.”

“Excuse me? What did you just say, you stupid giant elf?”

“Isn’t it a bit of an oxymoron to call an elf giant?” Doyoung points out scathingly.

“Don’t test me, bunny boy.”

“Hey, he’s a cute bunny though!”

“Sure he is, Owlface.”

“Can we please stop comparing each other to animals?” Sicheng sighs, already knowing he’s fighting for a lost cause. _Are you there, God? It’s me, Sicheng. If you’re listening, please send a bolt of lightning down to strike this car immediately so I can finally be free of these people._

“If you say so, Duck.”

Sadly, the summer skies remain perfectly blue and beautiful. _Yeah, fuck you too, Big Guy._

“How the hell are you mature enough to be a father?” Sicheng wonders. Seriously, Jongdae has more kids than everyone else in this car combined and he’s been married the longest and without any divorces—literally _how_?

“Easy!” Sooyoung jumps in, fire dancing in her eyes. “He didn’t run away from Sunyoung like a little bitch, that’s how!”

 _Low blow, Soo. Low fucking blow._ “You’re one to talk—who almost left her husband at the altar, huh?”

If looks could kill, Sicheng wouldn’t just be buried six feet under, but also catapulted to the fiery pits of hell and right into Satan’s lap. “That lasted for like, an hour tops—you’ve been homeless for almost a month now!”

“it would’ve been a lot more than an hour if Taeil-hyung and I didn’t show up to drag your sorry ass back!”

“At least I actually went back, unlike someone!”

“Who says I won’t?”

“Nobody, but sometimes it’s hard to tell with your stupid tsundere face and stupid tsundere attitude and stupid tsundere actions!”

“Wow, you’re so creative—try calling me something other than a stupid tsundere, I fucking dare you!”

“Watch me, Peking duck!”

“First of all, that’s racist and second of all, that doesn’t even make sense because I’m not from Beijing!”

“So I’m the bad friend now? Well, I’m _soooooo_ sorry, Winky or whatever your boyfriend calls you!”

“It’s _Winko_!”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“I don’t know, but maybe you should stop yelling at me!”

“Only if you stop being stupid, which is impossible!”

“Okay kids, let’s just simmer down for a sec—”

“Stay out of this, hyung! You replaced me with your stupid boyfriend!”

“Excuse me? As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one who replaced us with Ten and Jeno and Jaemin— _you_ shut us out first! And now you’re jealous that Doyoung’s in the group? Well maybe if you’d just opened your goddamn mouth you wouldn’t throw yourself pity parties so much anymore!”

“Yeah? Well fuck you, too. Both of you can go die in a ditch for all I care and—”

“ENOUGH!”

Without any prior warning, Chanyeol sharply veers the car off the main road and jerks the steering wheel in the direction of an empty rest stop. He slams on the brakes so aggressively that everyone shoots forward and poor Taeil nearly smashes his head into the headrest of the seat in front of him. Had it not been for the seatbelt digging into his neck, Sicheng would have been thrown half out the windshield.

Chanyeol mutters a string of swears under his breath as he violently stabs down at his seatbelt buckle and snatches Jisung from Jongdae’s lap. “What are you, children?” He barks, narrowing his eyes in an unimpressed combination of disappointment and disapproval at the occupants of the back seat. “You’re supposed to be adults, so start acting like it! Fucking talk to each other instead of yelling insults, for Christ’s sake. I am going to take Jwi out for a quick break, and by the time I get back I expect you to have sorted yourselves out or else I’m leaving you stranded here.”

Sicheng doesn’t dare breathe until Chanyeol’s left the car and trudged down to one of the picnic benches with Jisung. Judging by the way Sooyoung’s as pale as a sheet and Taeil’s eyes are blown wider than usual, they must have the same thought running through their minds.

_Oh, fuck._

Jongdae whistles lowly and starts clapping in a slow, sarcastic manner. “Oof, congratulations; you’ve just managed the impossible in making Park Chanyeol lose his shit. And all this time I thought it would be the troublemakers to finally break him but nope, I was wrong. Who would’ve thought,” he drawls.

Sooyoung buries her face in her hands, her hair completely covering her like a curtain. “Thanks for that note of encouragement, oppa. We really needed that.”

“Yeah, you really did,” Jongdae agrees cheerfully. He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his door, says, “Well, I’m off for a quick walk. Hope y’all can talk things through and be civil, or at least not kill each other. Have fun!”

Not even five seconds after Jongdae skips off, Doyoung also undoes his seatbelt and gently extricates Taeil from his lap. “I’m still a new addition, so I’ll give you guys some privacy and let you sort everything out by yourselves. Good, uh, luck, I guess,” Doyoung awkwardly salutes, then shimmies away to safety outside the car.

For what feels like an eternity, Chanyeol’s car is dead silent. Déjà-vu strikes as Sicheng realizes that they were in this exact same situation a month ago, except it’s not Taeil’s car and they don’t have cake and they were, well, actually properly communicating with each other instead of reeling in awkwardness from a petty fight that none of them really know how it started, anyway.

“Well,” Taeil speaks up at last. His hands are folded neatly in his lap and his posture is all prim and proper and upright. “I’d say this retreat is already off to a better start than last year’s huh?”

Sooyoung shifts, peeking out from behind her hair with one eyes. “Oh, really?” She laughs faintly. “I mean, we did make Chanyeol-oppa annoyed and spent the last ten minutes screaming at each other, but I guess it could be worse.”

“Indeed it could,” Taeil nods solemnly. “We could’ve crashed and Jisung would’ve died from the impact of the airbag, and then Chanyeol-hyung really would’ve skinned us alive.”

Sicheng and Sooyoung stare at him with blank expressions.

Taeil raises his hands defensively. “What? I’m just saying, it _could’ve_ happened but didn’t, so was our fighting really all that bad compared to the other possible scenarios? I think not!”

“I mean, when you put it that way…” Sooyoung trails off begrudgingly.

“See? Always gotta think on the bright side of life!”

The statement is more Taeil being Taeil with his awkward yet endearing sense of humor rather than a real joke, and it isn’t even that funny—not at all, in fact—but for some reason, Sicheng can’t stop the laughter that racks his shoulders and rips out his throat because God, they really are idiots, aren’t they? Just three stupid, tsundere idiots in their late twenties trying to make it through life until they break it, and they just had the most juvenile fight that yes, started from a fairly serious matter, but strayed so far from its source in the most absurd way.

Well, that’s just adulthood, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about Yuta,” Sicheng confesses. “And for calling Taeil-hyung a hag. And all the names I called Soo. And just…yeah, everything, I guess.”

He’s pretty sure he hears a sniffle coming from his right, but for Sooyoung’s sake he chooses not to mention it.

“And I’m sorry for dragging into this overcrowded car, giving you the cold shoulder, and then yelling at you like that,” Sooyoung mumbles under her breath.

Taeil watches them with warm, proud eyes. “Mind if I squeeze in a quick apology for prioritizing Doyoung over you two these past few weeks? Because yeah, I’m pretty sorry about that, too. I think I just got too excited over finally being in a relationship again after so long, so I’m sorry that I didn’t do more to try and help when I should’ve done something.”

The ever so familiar feeling of guilt floods Sicheng’s system. “No no no, you can’t say you should’ve done this or that when I was the one who cut you out,” he shakes his head miserably. He digs his nails into the fabric of his jeans, mutters, “It really is all my fault, so it’s not fair for you two to feel apologetic. Not when I’m the one who really should have been better. I’m sorry.”

Sooyoung finally lifts her head enough so they can see her face again. “So moral of the story is that we’ve all been bad friends to varying degrees and should stop pitying ourselves and just make up already?” She suggests glumly.

“I see nothing wrong with that,” Taeil concurs.

“Agreed,” Sicheng cracks a smile.

Silence consumes the air again, but this time it’s not so much stiflingly painful as it is peaceful. There’s the calm before the storm, but there’s also the quiet serenity after the clouds have cleared and the skies are blue again, too.

Once again, Taeil is the one to break the silence. “Sicheng,” he says, voice light and delicate as a feather. “I know it’s probably still a touchy subject and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable, but I want to know…what exactly is going on with you and Yuta?”

Ah. Right. The real origin of the problem. Where it all began.

Sicheng beings to gnaw on his lower lip, only to immediately when Sooyoung glares at him disapprovingly. With no where left to run—both literally and figuratively—he carefully laces his fingers together and does what he should have done from the start: he talks.

“It’s kind of a long story, but basically…I thought I’d come to a realization about the whole moving in thing after talking to Jaemin for a bit, so I told Yuta one night that I wanted to move in. I thought he’d be happy, but…”

_You make me so happy. But sometimes, you also make me so sad._

Denim bunches under his fists. “I think he knew that I didn’t actually believe in it myself, that I was saying I wanted to because I thought that was the right thing to say.”

Sooyoung sucks in a breath. “Why would you think that was the only right thing to say? I’m sure that if you just told him you still weren’t ready he would understand, right?”

“I know he would,” Sicheng agrees. _Of course he would, because he’s Yuta._ But at the same time… “I wanted to make him happy, and I thought that moving in together was what he wanted. I don’t know.”

“Clearly he could tell that it’s not what _you_ wanted, though,” Taeil quietly supplies. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he adds, “Is it?”

The seed of guilt in his stomach buds and flowers at a sickening rate. “I don’t even know what I want,” Sicheng admits. “I went back to the apartment the other day to get more clothes and he was there, and I don’t know what happened but I kissed him and told him to wait for me and that I’ll be back soon and I just…just…”

A foul taste lines the inside of his mouth as he forces his tongue to let out the confession he’s been holding back from the start. “I keep pushing him away and then telling him to wait and be patient, except I never know how long it’ll take for me to stop pushing him because I’m a fucking coward like that. And he deserves someone who’s already ready, not someone like me.”

Because Yuta has been nothing but kind and patient and understanding and accepting, but that only makes it worse because Sicheng doesn’t feel worthy of such love when he himself takes ten steps backwards for every step forward.

 _Or maybe you’re just overthinking again,_ that omnipresent voice in his head suggests dryly. _If you really love each other, isn’t that proof enough that you can work things out? Shouldn’t you at least try? But you won’t, because you’ll just shove me into the filing cabinet, won’t you?_

_Shut. The. Fuck. Up._

Sooyoung furrows her brow. “And now?” She prompts, almost nervously. “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong or being stupid because I don’t know all the inner workings of your relationship, but what are you going to do now? Do you have any idea what you’ll say once you’re alone with him again? What you even _want_ to say?”

Outside, Chanyeol’s seated at a picnic bench with Jisung facing him from on top of the table. The beam on Chanyeol’s face rivals the sun as he tilts his head and nods along to whatever Jisung’s gushing about, not even pulling away when the toddler tugs at his elfish ears. Instead, he playfully grabs Jisung’s in return and bends over to rest his forehead against his son’s. Jongdae’s right next to them with his phone out, chatting to Sunyoung over video call. Doyoung’s raiding a nearby vending machine, and funnily enough, he’s exclusively stocking up on all of Taeil’s favorites.

Everyone else seems to know what they want and which path to take to find happiness. So why does Sicheng still feel lost all the time?

“I don’t know,” is all he can bring himself to admit out loud. “All I can say for sure is that I still want him in my life, as selfish as that is.”

Privately though, he can’t but wonder if maybe what he wants isn’t what will make Yuta the happiest.

Thankfully, the last few hours of the drive are considerably less tense. Jongdae plugs in the AUX cord and starts blasting rock—huh, who would’ve guessed—and sings along to every note perfectly. Taeil and Doyoung voluntarily submit and act as his backup singers, which is incredibly out of character for both of their prideful selves (“Please, even we know who the real king is,” Doyoung scoffs. “The only one who dares challenge him is Sunyoung-noona.”)

They’re the last car to pull up to Johnny’s friend’s cabin, which is unsurprising considering the impromptu stops and Chanyeol’s insistence on only driving five above the speed limit at most (“Suburban dad? More like grandma in a retirement home,” Jongdae snickers). Seungwan and the young ones are pitching tents outside while Ten languidly sips on a beer on the porch (because of course he would already break into the stash this early in the trip. Of fucking course he would).

“I see you’re putting in your fair share,” Sicheng comments sarcastically as he drags his trusty duffel bug out of the car, casting an unimpressed glance at Ten’s lackadaisical posture.

Ten scoffs. “Please. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t have even found a place. Besides, Johnny and I claimed one of the rooms already so why should I pitch a tent I’m not going to use?”

“Because it would make you a team player and not lazy?”

“Pfft. Overrated,” Ten rolls his eyes. “Oh, and by the way—we already set up sleeping arrangements while we were waiting for you. Chanyeol-hyung and Jongdae-hyung can take one bedroom since they’re old men and probably have back pains—”

“Hey!” Chanyeol yelps indignantly.

“I mean, we do,” Jongdae winces, self-consciously rubbing the small of his back. “And knee pains. And neck pains. We’re just broken in general.”

“—so they need beds and not sleeping bags. Then Yuta gets the last bedroom since he’s sick. Everyone else has to split up into tents.”

Sicheng frowns. “Yuta’s sick? How bad is it? Is he okay? Where is he now? Does he need anything? Should I—”

Ten calmly uses one hand to lift his beer to his lips and slaps the other over Sicheng’s mouth to effectively shut him up. “Calm your non-existent man tits, loverboy,” Ten rolls his eyes. He pauses to take a swig of his drink, then sets his can down and jerks his thumb in the direction of the cabin. “He’s sleeping now. Definitely shouldn’t have come on the trip though. Thank god Johnny packed a med kit, but we had to stop a few times to let him throw up on the side of the road.”

“ _What_?” Sicheng exclaims, completely dumbfounded. Disbelief courses through his veins as his mind goes into a frenzy while Ten calmly sips his beer like it’s a normal day and one of his best friends wasn’t just throwing up during a six hour car ride to the middle of fucking nowhere on a goddamn mountain.

Automatically, his feet drag him to the cabin door, the only thought running through his mind being a determined _I have to make sure he’s okay._ Ten, however, has other ideas as he boredly reaches out and snags the back of Sicheng’s shirt, halting him in place.

“Calm down, Sicheng,” Ten yawns. “By a few times I only meant twice, and that’s mostly because Johnny’s driving sucks ass. Well, it didn’t help that I was _distracting_ him, but ya know. Yuta’s just got a bit of a stomach bug, and even though we did tell him it would have been better for him to stay home and rest instead of come out to this dumb camp, he insisted and it seems like he’ll be fine after he gets some sleep. And do you really want to be the one to wake him up, hmm?”

 _Fuck you, midget._ “You’ve got a point,” Sicheng reluctantly admits. He casts one last forlorn look at the door before retreating in shame and shuffling over to Ten’s side. “Of course he would say he’s fine though; he’s stupid like that.”

Ten fails to hide his smirk behind his beer. “You must be even denser than I thought,” he marvels.

“What?”

“Sicheng,” Ten patronizingly rolls his eyes again. “You think Yuta was dying to come on a weeklong trip that goes to hell every year? You think that was the real reason?”

An uneasy feeling buds in Sicheng’s gut. “No…?”

Smugness flickers through Ten’s catlike eyes. “Exactly. I’ll let you figure it out for yourself, then,” he smirks devilishly.

 _Once again: fuck you, midget_. Sicheng half-heartedly flaps his wrist against Ten’s shoulder, mutters, “You owe me big time, hyung. Heard you didn’t keep my secret like I asked you to.”

“And you seem to have forgotten that I never technically said I would, so I didn’t actually promise you anything, did I?”

“Smartass.”

“Thanks, I really try.”

Suddenly, a shriek cuts through the air like a knife. Everyone stops unloading and stares in the direction of the tents. Mark cowers behind Lucas, making his already tall boyfriend appear even bigger. Three of the four tents are pitched and upright, but the one right by Mark is knocked over and suspiciously _trampled_ -looking, which is rather odd. If Sicheng had to take a guess, however, he’d bet all his life savings that Mark’s current state of being has to do with the bundle of fur in Jeno’s arms.

Classic. In hindsight, Sicheng really should have seen this coming because did he seriously expect anything less?

Jeno is practically in tears as he clutches his cat—is that Bongsik? Sicheng’s fairly sure it’s Bongsik—to his chest. “Come on, Mark-hyung—she’s perfectly harmless, I swear! The sweetest cat you’ll ever meet!” Jeno insists, taking a step closer to the frightened man.

Mark doesn’t seem any more convinced as he wraps his arms around Lucas’s torso for protection (and naturally, Lucas doesn’t seem the least bit bothered as he happily clasps his own enormous hands over Mark’s tiny ones. Fucking whipped).

“Then why did she hiss and try to scratch me?” Mark yelps, nervously peeking at the purring feline ( _wow, so villainous)._

“Because you scared her when you barged into my tent! Don’t you know that startled cats are super jumpy?”

“Well how was I supposed to know you smuggled your cat to a work retreat?” Mark snaps.

Jaemin, from where he’s rather dejectedly kneeling on the dirt and fixing the tent Mark knocked over, shakes his head. Dryly, he remarks, “He would’ve brought all three if he had it his way; the only way to convince him to just bring Bongsik was by threatening no kisses for a week.” He shoots Jeno the stink eye, grumbles, “Guess I just can’t win with this one.”

“Nanaaaaaa!” Jeno cries out in despair and for fuck’s sake, is his bottom seriously trembling right now? Over a goddamn cat?

Sicheng groans and presses his fingers to his temples. “I very much regret coming on this trip,” he grouses, dragging his hands down his face.

Ten just snorts. “I feel that,” he agrees sympathetically. Conjuring a second beer out of seemingly nowhere, Ten offers it to Sicheng, says a wry, “You’re gonna need it, trust me,” and leans back in his chair to watch the chaos unfold.

Currently, Mark’s desperately trying to back away while still clinging to Lucas. Unfortunately, he backpedals into another tent and falls on his ass, not only dragging Lucas down with him but crushing the tent, too. Jaemin, who’d still been in the midst repairing the first fallen tent, lets out a loud, exasperated sigh and shuffles over to tend to Mark’s second casualty, all while Jeno trails after him begging to know if Jaemin still loves him despite all his flaws (the answer is a very curt “We’ll see about that,” because Jaemin is a bit of tsundere himself).

The mess isn’t just limited to the young ones, however. Not even close. The resident dads bicker as they take the food coolers out of the car, with Jongdae making a scathing comment about refusing to share a bed with Chanyeol of all people, to which the latter responds with a petulant remark about how trust him, Jongdae’s the last person he’d like to sleep with. Cue a divorced joke here, a whiny dinosaur retort there, a snide “I’m not friends with you by choice, just through association!” a few scalding comments about how the hell does your spouse (or _ex-_ spouse in Chanyeol’s case) deal with you, a pair of height mockeries, then one last squabble that would look a lot more concerning instead of funny if Chanyeol weren’t almost a full head taller than Jongdae, and roughly five seconds later they’re back to being their usual dad selves as they help each other bring their bags inside the cabin and laugh over dumb middle aged man jokes. Taeil and Doyoung have been left in charge of Jisung for the time being, which is just about as terrible an idea as it sounds. The way Taeil’s holding Jisung in midair by his arms doesn’t look safe at all, but how would Taeil know when he’s too busy rubbing his nose against Doyoung’s? Sooyoung’s migrated over to where Seungwan’s perched on a lawn chair by a tent that’s been strategically placed far away from Hurricane Mark, and the two clink wine coolers that only one person could have brought.

What a great start to the retreat.

Sicheng accepts the beer and cracks it open with more force than necessary. “Sometimes I wonder why I left China in the first place,” he deadpans.

Ten chuckles and taps cans with him. “Tell me about it. The immigrant experience, amirite?”

Mark shrieks again as Jeno lets go of Bongsik in favor of backhugging Jaemin. “Nah,” Sicheng sighs and proceeds to down half his beer at once. Ten was right, he really did need this. “I think it’s just us.”

Well, he thinks as he watches Lucas pick up Bongsik and chase his screaming boyfriend around the campsite while Jaemin shouts that they’d better not knock another tent over _or else_ , Sicheng’s still got a long time before he can even think of applying for citizenship. It’s not too late to throw his green card out and go back to China, right?

“GET THAT FIEND AWAY FROM ME!”

“Which one? Your boyfriend or the cat?

“FUCK OFF JAEMIN!”

If unpacking wasn’t already chaotic enough, the rest of the evening served to upgrade Sicheng’s headache from a slight throbbing o a full on migraine.

As per tradition, the first night of the retreat is kept relatively simple with a ramyun and soda dinner (meat and soju always comes later, once they get fully settled and are either all on great terms or ready to kill each other) with brownies for dessert (“No pot involved,” Johnny warns). Johnny’s friend’s cabin is large enough to fit thirteen adults and a small child in the living room with minimal cramping. Sicheng finds himself squeezed between Sooyoung and Ten on the couch, with Seungwan on Ten’s other side and the quadruplets (“You can’t say that when some of them are dating each other! That’s just sick!” Sooyoung scrunches her nose) splayed out on the carpet because they don’t have the seniority to deserve furniture. Doyoung and Taeil are, as expected, sharing the love seat while Chanyeol sits on the armchair with Jisung on his lap. Johnny and Jongdae are cleaning up the kitchen because they lost at rock paper scissors (“I let you all come here and this is how I’m repaid. I don’t even work with you anymore!” Johnny bemoans).

Yuta has yet to emerge from his bedroom—a fact Sicheng is well aware of but pretends to not notice. Sicheng nearly caved and volunteered to bring Yuta a bowl of ramyun, but chickened out at the last second and let Ten do the honors. Ten must have noticed the anxious look on Sicheng’s face, because after returning to his seat, he muttered a quiet, “He’s fine, just tired” under his breath, barely loud enough for Sicheng to hear. But even that was enough.

(Maybe his chest loosened, but he doesn’t want to dwell on that too much)

“Hey!” Seungwan cries out in anger when Ten snags the last brownie for himself. She points an enraged finger at him, shouts, “I called dibs! That’s _mine_!”

In true Ten fashion, he immediately shoves the entire brownie into his mouth at once. “Suck it!” Ten crows, voice mangled in the most unflattering way through a mouthful of chocolate (seriously, how does this guy have a boyfriend?)

Seungwan responds by grabbing a fistful of Ten’s hair, prompting an irritated squawk as Ten retaliates by smacking her in the face.

Sooyoung rolls her eyes. “You ever forget that they’re older than us? Because I do, all the time,” she drawls.

“You sure they’re actually older?” Sicheng replies dryly. Before the interns were promoted, he was the youngest senior member of the team, but no one would’ve guessed it based on personality alone (“You’re like, a fifty year old man in the body of a mid twenties twink,” Kun always teases).

Sooyoung lets out a giggle as Seungwan proceeds to grab Ten in a chokehold. “You’re right. Maybe we should carbon date them or something.”

“Yeah, because two white collar workers totally how to do that sciencey shit,” Sicheng smiles. “But maybe we could afford a DNA test to see if they’re actually related. You never know, maybe Seungwan-noona’s family secretly has connections in Bangkok and the reason why she and Ten act like siblings is because they actually are and—Soo? Soo?”

She’s not even paying attention to him or looking at the bickering troublemakers, Instead, Sooyoung’s eyes are trained on Doyoung and Taeil, gaze immeasurably soft as she watches the way Taeil plays with Doyoung’s hands and Doyoung attentively nods along to some conspiracy theory about werewolves or dragons or aliens or whatever odd creature Taeil’s obsessed with today.

“I like them together,” Sooyoung muses. She fiddles with her wedding band and tilts her head, smiles, and says, “I wasn’t so sure at first, but Doyoung really is a good guy. Likes to pretend he’s some evil overlord so he can fuck with people, sure, but I think that’s what makes him click so well with Taeil-oppa, y’know? They’re both quirky and like a lot of the same things, so I’m happy for Taeil.”

It’s hard to disagree with that. Sicheng’s not blind; of course he can see how well Taeil and Doyoung work together. When the relationship began, Sicheng was skeptical because he was half convinced Taeil was only pursuing Doyoung on a whim and not out of sincerity. Well, even if that’s how it all began, it’s clear as day that the two of them genuinely like each other and are a great match—which is crazy considering they’d been coworkers for years without any meaningful interaction and all it took was one bold, wine-fueled move to put the scattered puzzle pieces together.

Deep down, Sicheng’s well aware that he’s not opposed to adding Doyoung to their circle. Far from it, because if Doyoung makes Taeil happy then that’s more than a good enough reason.

It’s the idea of change, however, that he’s not as good with.

Sooyoung hums, tapping her long nails against the empty Sprite can in her hand. “If I’m gonna be real,” she starts, then hesitates, uncertainty flickering through her eyes.

“Hmm?” Sicheng blinks, waving for her to continue.

“Well,” she pauses again, then sets her mouth in a determined line and forges on. “I don’t think I’ve seen a couple as well-matched since you and Yuta, actually.”

_Oh._

Sicheng fixes his gaze on an invisible speck of dust on the coffee table. “For Taeil-hyung’s sake, I sure hope he doesn’t end up like us,” he mumbles, not sure if he’s going for a lighthearted joke or cynical sarcasm and ends up falling somewhere on the gray area in between.

Sooyoung’s eyes widen. “Sicheng,” she utters, dead serious. “What do you mean by that? ‘End’? Why are you saying it like that? Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head. When, he wonders, did it become so easy to lie? “It doesn’t mean anything, Soo.”

Nails dig into his arm as Sooyoung’s pale hand captures his wrist. “Sicheng, you—”

“Alriiiiiiiiiiight, who’s up for some truth or truth?” Jongdae’s loud tenor rings through the air and disrupts the tempo of the living room as the man himself strolls in with a large smile that could pass for a smirk.

Mark quirks his brow in confusion. “Why the fuck are we playing truth or dare? We’re not in middle school,” he points out, completely lost.

Jongdae rolls his eyes exasperatedly. Patronizingly, he says, “First of all, it’s truth or truth because we’re responsible adults who aren’t about to do dares on a creepy mountain in the middle of nowhere.

“Sounds like the pussy version,” Mark mutters under his breath (damn, Sicheng didn’t know he had it in him).

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth, Mark Lee,” Jongdae barks, giving his former intern a quick flick on the forehead for good measure. “And second of all, we do this every year so it’s basically tradition. It’s a great way to find out the juicy details of each others’ lives. A win-win situation if you ask me.”

“I don’t think you actually know what win-win means, hyung.”

“Yeah? Well you can shut your whore mouth too, Na Jaemin.”

“Hey, don’t call Jaem that!”

Chanyeol smacks a hand to his forehead and painstakingly drags it down his face. “Jongdae, have you ever considered being a little nicer to your coworkers?”

“No, because I’m the king of all tsunderes. Now can we play the goddamn game?”

For a second it seems as if Chanyeol’s finally going to stand up for himself against his number one frenemy, then he sighs and whips out the fluffy pink noise cancelling headphones from his bag. “I don’t know why I still try with you,” he grumbles under his breath as he securely clamps the headphones over Jisung’s ears.

“Face it: you couldn’t live without me,” Jongdae sniffs dismissively. Without waiting for a reply, he turns to Ten and brightly exclaims, “Second favorite son of mine! You start!”

Ten doesn’t bat an eye at the nickname; if anything, he seems even more smug than before as he straightens his posture and smirks. “Soo,” he declares loudly, waggling a finger in front of her face. “Be honest: did you ever have a crush on me in college?”

The fingers around Sicheng’s wrist slacken, relieving the pressure of nails digging into his skin. “What the fuck kind of question is that?” Sooyoung demands, horror and scandal slapped across her face. “Of course _not_! Why would anyone have a crush on you when you were the biggest twink and spent every practice drooling over Johnny’s thighs?”

“You did?” Johnny asks, intrigued, as Ten flushes a bright red and splutters, “Well a simple ‘no’ would have been fine, too, but okay!”

Sooyoung rolls her eyes. “I don’t believe in sugarcoating,” she deadpans.

 _No shit, Sherlock,_ Sicheng agrees internally.

“Did you at least have a crush on anyone from dance, then?” Ten presses further, determined to dig up some stale tea for whatever reason (probably blackmail, but he’d have to be an idiot to even try blackmailing Park Sooyoung of all people. Then again, he _is_ Ten, after all).

“Oh, yeah,” Sooyoung shrugs nonchalantly. She fishes another soda can from the cooler by the couch and cracks it open right as she drops the bomb of, “I always thought Jaehyun was hot. Still is, too.”

“What?” Ten exclaims. “But he’s Taeyong’s! _Homewrecker_!”

“Chill, midget—in case you’ve forgotten, I’m married now. Besides, who doesn’t have a crush on Jaehyun?”

_Accurate._

As Johnny rubs a sulky Ten’s shoulders in an attempt to appease him (“If I’m gonna be one hundred percent real, I also had a tiny crush on Jaehyun too when he showed up at your place that time. But like, in a low key, I could already tell we’re bros for life kind of way, y’know?” “Literally shut the fuck up.”), Sooyoung sweeps her gaze across the living room to find her first victim. Sicheng isn’t surprised by the way everyone avoids her gaze—that woman is absolutely terrifying—nor by the fact that she zeroes in on him of all people.

“Sicheng,” she speaks up with just a hint of ice to her voice. “Why did you really leave my wedding early?”

The room falls so silent that the only noise comes from the rustling of the trees outside. Sooyoung might as well have stuffed Sicheng’s mouth with cotton with how dry his tongue feels because of all things, he never expected this specific memory to come back and haunt him now.

In retrospect, though, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Because even if his skittish non-answer to Yuta’s suggestion of moving in together started everything, that damned bouquet was the real spark that lit the fire.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Taeil eyeing him warily, mouth pursed into an unreadable line. He’s the only one Sicheng told about the incident, which makes Sicheng feel a bit guilty for not telling Sooyoung despite being honest with their other best friend.

Still; that’s not something he wants to admit now, when they’re supposed to be on a lighthearted retreat and having fun.

“Because if I’d stayed any longer I would have thrown up all that cake I ate onto your dress,” he replies smoothly, lifting his chin so he can meet her gaze with his own defiant one.

Like magic, the tension in the room dissipates as the others giggle and breathe sighs of relief. “Can’t believe all that cake was wasted on you three,” Seungwan complains. “I’ll have you know that the only reason I ever go to weddings is for the cake; that was totally a waste of my day.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sooyoung elbows Seungwan in the ribs.

Sicheng can feel a set of owlish eyes boring into his head, but he chooses not to check if they’re filled with disapproval when he already knows the answer to that. Hastily, he clears his throat and blurts out the first name that comes to mind.

“Johnny-hyung!” He decides. Then, because deep down he’s a natural born shit-stirrer, smirks and asks, “If you had to date any of us other than Ten, who would it be?”

Johnny freezes mid-massage, hands stiffening around Ten’s shoulder blades. “Um,” he blinks blankly. Meekly, he says, “Could I get a pass because I’m no longer with this team?”

Ten cranes his neck back to inspect his suspiciously nervous boyfriend. “Excuse me sir, but you are legally obligated to answer the question.”

“I don’t think I’m—”

“ _Johnny fucking Seo!”_

“Right. The question,” Johnny gulps. Sicheng almost feels sorry for him because poor Johnny has given them so much and this is how he gets treated in return, but hey, all in the spirit of funs and games, right?

At last, Johnny sighs and mutters, “Um, I guess Seungwan?”

 _Oof,_ Sicheng winces. _Wrong move, buddy._

“ _What_?” Ten screeches in disbelief. “You’d go for _her_? Of all people? That’s—that’s _disgusting_!”

Seungwan, on the other hand, appears unperturbed as she munches on a cookie from the sizable stack in her hands (“How did you find those? I hid them in the emergency stash!” Chanyeol groans). “Eh,” she lifts and lowers a shoulder. “I still wouldn’t ever date someone who’s already slept with Ten, but I’m flattered anyway. Not gonna lie, it was fun flirting with you and you’re pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” Johnny sighs, smile as weak as glass. Judging by the way Sicheng can practically see the steam coming out of Ten’s ears, Johnny’s about to have a very long week ahead of him.

“Wait,” Mark innocently pipes up. “Confession: I shipped you two for the longest time.”

Ten’s expression is priceless. “You _what_?” He demands in a dangerously low voice.

Poor, sweet, naive Mark continues digging his own grave as he obliviously explains, “I don’t know, I thought they looked good together. Plus the English squad has to stick together, if you get what I mean. Johnny-hyung and Seungwan-noona were like, my parents when I first joined. I totally thought they would start dating.”

The steam is now upgraded to full on fire as Ten glares murderously at the bafflingly oblivious Mark Lee. “Why, you little Canadian pipsqueak—”

“But then you noticed how Johnny-hyung and Ten-hyung were practically fucking each other with their eyes every day and you saw the light, _right_?” Jaemin quickly interjects like the good friend he is. He not so discreetly kicks Mark in the knee and adds another emphasized “ _Right?_ ” for good measure.

Mark’s mouth parts in realization that yeah, he was about two seconds away from getting murdered by a certain salesman. “Oh yeah, definitely,” he nods vigorously. “Johnny-hyung and Ten-hyung are totally meant for each other. Yup. Couldn’t see them with anyone else. Hope they get married soon. Yeah. I’ll just. Stop talking. Yeah.”

Mark crawls into a corner in an act of self-exile, but he’s not alone for long as Lucas happily tags along with with him and proceeds to cuddle the life out of him (“It’s okay if you’re dumb sometimes, baby lion—that just makes you even cuter!”) Nervously, Johnny plants a quick kiss on Ten’s lips (Ten doesn’t seem entirely amused, but the faint blush on his cheeks gives his facade away anyway) and quickly diverts the attention away from himself. “Soooo, Jongdae-hyung…”

Jongdae coolly lifts a brow.

“Out of all the people we’ve worked with, how many of them other than your wife have you kissed?” Johnny conjures and _damn,_ what a brave man he is. A foolish man perhaps, but a brave one indeed.

Jongdae’s expression sours immediately, the blood draining out of his face at an alarming rate. “Oh fuck off,” he spits bitterly.

“That’s not an answer, hyung,” Johnny smirks, knowing he’s hit an especially sore spot.

“Fine!” Jongdae throws his hands in the air in defeat. “It’s only two, okay!”

Sooyoung does a double take. “Wait, _two_? So it wasn’t just Seungwan-unnie? Who was the second?” She leans forward in interest, excited at the prospect of new blackmail.

Jongdae mutters something noncommittal under his breath, expression darkening by the second.

“What was that? Sorry, I couldn’t hear,” Johnny presses even further.

“It was Chanyeol, okay! Can we move on now?”

“ _WHAT?!”_

To say all hell breaks loose would be the understatement of the century. Johnny screams, Sooyoung screams, Ten forgets his momentary beef with Seungwan as he clutches her and they both scream, Mark and Lucas scream in their corner, Jeno flings himself into Jaemin’s arms and screams, and even Sicheng can’t hold back a scream of giddy disbelief at the thought of Jongdae locking lips with his notorious love-hate frenemy.

Jongdae storms out of the room like the bad sport he is while Chanyeol at least has the dignity to stay. At this point in his life, he’s probably so done with everything and everyone that there’s no room left for mortification, just resignation. “I have many regrets in my life,” Chanyeol states flatly, rolling his eyes all the way to the ceiling. Swallowing, he adds, “But kissing Jongdae will probably always be the worst.”

“What’s the story?” Seungwan interrogates curiously, unfazed by the way Ten clings to her in horror. “Like, what, where, when, why, and how? The audience demands to know!”

Jisung peers up at his father in confusion, blissfully unaware of the ruckus as his headphones block out the rest of the world. Chanyeol’s eye twitches as he rubs Jisung’s back, sighs, and says, “Clarification: It was just once. Sunyoung dared us to when we were drunk at a college party, and it was only because she wanted blackmail material. Kyungsoo even took a video and everything, which he played for both of our weddings.”

“How was it? Like, Jongdae-oppa wasn’t half-bad at kissing when we were still together, although Sunyoung-unnie tells me he’s improved a lot these days.”

“I could really go the rest of my life without knowing how Jongdae-hyung kisses,” Ten whispers, broken.

Sooyoung shudders. “I for one just can’t believe Jongdae-oppa’s made out with the most people in our team. Much to think about.”

“Okay,” Jaemin raises a hand. “But the important question is, does he still have the video?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Does _Sunyoung_ have it?”

“Moving on!”

Ten drags Jongdae back into the living room against the latter’s will (“I will not stand for such blatant disrespect!”) and the game continues, well, much the same. Jongdae gets the truth out of Lucas of who really left those suspicious white stains on the inside of the door to the make out closet (“I’m no snitch! I always honor Je— _shit!_ ”), who in turn asks a tomato red Jeno to list out everything he loves about Jaemin (leave it to Lucas to ask the only pure question of the night). Jeno fumbles through a fifteen minute rant about how cute and loving and sweet Jaemin is and how he’s everything Jeno’s ever wanted, and not even Jaemin the tsundere can hold back tears at the endearing rambling. Jeno then turns to Chanyeol and inquires into the manager’s dating life post-divorce (the answer is rather pitiful and no one dares mention the Baekhyun-sized elephant in the room), and an embarrassed Chanyeol gets his revenge on Johnny by forcing Ten to spill Johnny’s deepest, darkest secret (Johnny eats pizza with barbecue sauce instead of tomato sauce. That’s it. That’s the secret. Fucking Americans).

As Seungwan forces Jaemin to recount all his former boyfriends and girlfriends (the list is impressively long, much to Jeno’s dismay), Sicheng slips away to use the bathroom. Johnny points down the hallway and instructs him to open the third door, and the last thing Sicheng hears is Jaemin demanding to know if Mark has a size kink, and if so can that tiny mouth of his actually fit around _you know where_ (“E-e-excuse me?” “Hell yeah he does. But that’s a secret.”)?

Once in the bathroom, he sighs and plops down in the bathtub. He loves his team, he really does, but sometimes he runs out of steam and can’t handle all the chaos. Right now he’d love nothing more than to curl up in his sleeping bag and pass out until noon, but he doesn’t want to look like a bad sport in front of all his energetic friends.

Or, better yet, he wishes he could drive all the way back to Seoul and collapse on his bed with the warmth of someone else’s arm draped over his back. Legs intertwined, nimble fingers lazily carding through his hair, a soft “Good morning, Winko” before lips press a row of kisses down the back of his neck…Sicheng wants all that back so, so badly. More than anything else in the world, he needs Yuta’s electric smile to grace his mornings and evenings and all the minutes in between.

 _You’re pathetic_ , he scolds himself. Resting his head against the wall, he closes his eyes and forces any memories of what he had to go back to the dark caves they crept from. _You brought this upon yourself and yet you still have the nerve to ask for that kind of life back? You’re sad and pathetic and don’t deserve him—not after you threw him away so easily._

_I know._

The door creaks open, then comes to an abrupt halt. “Oh,” a rough, scratchy voice whispers. A cough, then another, “Oh.”

The deities must really, really have it out for Sicheng.

He cracks an eye open, and the sight before him makes him wish he hadn’t. Yuta is paler than the last time Sicheng saw him, forehead clammy and dark circles prominent under his eyes. His hair is swept all over the place—no doubt the result of tossing and turning—and the way he has to lean against the door frame for support twists Sicheng’s heart. Yuta looks, to put it kindly, extremely under the weather or, to put it bluntly, terrible, and seeing him like this makes Sicheng want to hold him close and comfort him until the pain goes away.

“Hi,” he offers lamely, flapping his hand in some vague waving motion. He clears his throat and adds, “I’m, uh, taking a break. Truth or truth is getting a bit too wild for me.”

Yuta nods slowly, caution all over his face. “I see,” he coughs again. Awkwardly, he begins to retreat. “I’ll give you some privacy, then. I know how draining these things can be so—”

“I could do with some company.”

Yuta’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, but that doesn’t even compare to the shock Sicheng himself feels. Did he, Mr. Flighty Tsundere the Skittish, really just invite the very person he’s been running away from—despite wanting to see him more than anything—to chill in some dubiously clean bathtub? Is he really Dong Sicheng and not some slightly ballsier doppelgänger?

 _Look at you, finally growing up,_ the devil on his shoulder sneers. _Well, there’s no turning back now, so for once in your life you should try and take responsibility for your actions._

The angel on his other side nods vigorously. _There’s no backing down!_

Yuta hesitates, then forces a smile as he shifts in place. For a moment, relief floods through Sicheng because surely it’s too awkward and Yuta will leave. Surely.

But Yuta’s always been the brave one, so it doesn’t surprise Sicheng at all when Yuta shuts the door behind him and gingerly makes his way to climb into the bathtub. The space isn’t nearly big enough for two grown men, so they end up with their arms and legs shoved against each other and so little space between them that Sicheng’s almost too afraid to breathe.

_Well, this is it. Your grand plan worked. Now talk to him, you fool._

“So,” Sicheng practically shouts. Holding back the urge to kick himself—or better yet, fling himself off the side of the mountain—for how loud and unnatural he sounds, he tries again with, “How are you feeling? Better than earlier?”

Turns out that even if Yuta’s braver, he’s no better at moments like this. “Yeah,” Yuta nods jerkily. His voice is low and raspy and hardly recognizable. “I mean, I still feel like shit but at least I’m not throwing up anymore. Yeah.”

“Oh. Yeah. Haha. That’s good. Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

 _Someone just come and stab me already._ Even before they started dating, when they were still in the weird flirting-yet-dancing-around-each-other phase, Sicheng never remembers being this awkward. They’ve been together for the better part of three years now and what do they have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Like always, Yuta seems to be able to sense what’s going on in Sicheng’s mind. He bumps Sicheng’s shoulder with his, murmurs, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” Sicheng parrots back, stubbornly keeping his eyes fixed on his knees.

He jumps when a gentle weight presses on his shoulder and silky hair tickles his neck. How long has It been since they were last like this? Even prior to the past month, it’s always been the other way around with Sicheng relying on Yuta for physical and mental support, finding a certain, irreplaceable type of solace in placing his forehead on Yuta’s sharp shoulders. Yuta doesn’t particularly like showing vulnerability, instead choosing to seek comfort in more subtle, mutual ways like lacing their fingers together or wrapping his arm around Sicheng’s frame. The only time Sicheng’s ever truly seen him break was when, well…

_But sometimes, you also make me so sad._

Yuta exhales. “You don’t have to force yourself to be around me if you’re still not comfortable,” he whispers in a hushed voice. “Whatever it is, you can tell me what you want. If you want space I’ll give it to you. If you want to come back you know my home is yours. And if you want to break up, you can just tell me.”

Fear seizes Sicheng, stabbing through his chest and violently tearing his still-beating heart out with a malicious laugh. “ _What_?” He cries out, blindly grabbing at Yuta’s sleeve in despair. “ _No_ —no no no, that’s not what I want. Please don’t—I—why would you… _how_ could you…”

_How could you be so cruel? Did I make you this way?_

Yuta’s timbre is even and calm, but Sicheng knows him well enough to recognize the trembling quiver hidden underneath when he speaks. “That’s not what I want,” Yuta clarifies quietly. “Believe me, that’s the last thing on my mind. I know you say you don’t want that either and I do believe you—I _want_ to believe you, Sicheng. But I think we need to be honest right now: how much longer are we going to be like this?”

That’s a good question—a very good question—and unfortunately, not one that Sicheng has an answer to. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. His grip on Yuta’s shirt slackens as he awkwardly shuffles as far away as the small bathtub allows him to run and fiddles with a rip in his jeans. “I don’t know, I just need some more time.”

“More time,” Yuta echoes listlessly. “I’m about to contradict what I said earlier, but Sicheng, it’s already been a month—how much more time do you need? Are you sure you’re not just stalling? Because in that case, I’d rather you tell me the truth even if it hurts than us being stuck in limbo.”

“I do need more time! I’m not running, it’s just—”

He cuts himself off as the stupidity of his words hit him. _Just what? You can take all the sweet time you need, but that’s not going to change the fact that you made up your mind a long time ago. Tell him, already._

So he does.

A surge of courage he didn’t know he had within him rushes through his veins, giving him the strength to gingerly rest his head on top of Yuta’s. “I do want to move in with you,” he admits. “I wanted to catch that bouquet, too, but I couldn’t do either. And when I say it’s not you but me, I really mean it.”

Yuta’s breath catches in his throat. Sicheng squeezes his eyes shut, just reveling in the closeness he’s craved for the past month. “All my life I’ve never been great with change. Sounds fake, right? Since moving to Seoul in the first place was a pretty huge change and all. But that’s different because it was something that only affected me—or at least, I used to think it did. Because recently, I’ve come to realize how much that one selfish decision impacted the people I care about and even though I wouldn’t say it was necessarily in a bad way, it’s the fact that there are some things out of my control that makes me nervous.”

He thinks of the lack of frequency in which he responds to his Chinese group chat and how slowly, over time, his motivation to even check it diminished. The icy disappointment from Kun after Sicheng ended days of radio silence. The helpless feeling that hit him like a punch to the gut when he realized there was nothing he could do for Yangyang when there was an ocean between them. Who’s to say that the next time something like Yangyang happens again Sicheng will be able to do anything? That he’ll even know?

Time is nothing but a cold, merciless bitch, and she stops for no one.

Perhaps change isn’t the one he’s been afraid of after all.

“I keep getting this feeling that I’ll move in with you and we’ll be happy, but what if that isn’t always the case?” Sicheng mumbles. Yuta’s head is a comforting weight on his shoulder, but for much longer? “We can say we love each other today, but how do we know that’ll still be true tomorrow? Not to say that we don’t really love each other or anything because I know we do, but we don’t have power over everything. I’m scared that we’ll fall into a rhythm together only for it to one day be disrupted, and then we’ll be left to pick up the pieces and begin again.”

He inhales a harsh breath and confesses, “I see a future with you, Yuta. Since that time you shook my hand in the lobby and told me good luck, I’ve always seen you. But that’s the problem, hyung. I see you in all my futures, but it’s not fair if I keep making you wait if you can see a future without me—because you deserve so much more than someone like me.”

“I’m terrible with people. I hate new things. I’m overdramatic and overthink until I explode. I’d rather bottle things up and take them to the grave instead of taking the simple route of opening my goddamn mouth. I’m not going to play victim by claiming I can’t or won’t change because I’m really trying, but I can’t promise when I’ll stop doing all the things I’ve been doing my entire life.”

“I know I’m always mocking the characters in dramas who fall under the noble idiocy trope, but I’m serious. You really should be with someone who’s less flaky and actually has their life put together, and I swear I’m trying but I just don’t know if I can ever give you the kind of life you deserve. So even though I can see a future with you in my life, I don’t want to be selfish and keep making you deal with me if you can’t see a future with me in yours.”

“And I’m not saying I want us to break up! Just…I think you should think about what you really want for yourself, and if you don’t see me in your plans…”

“Then maybe I’m not worth it.”

Yuta shifts, raising his head just the slightest and opening his mouth to speak—and there goes any and all courage Sicheng had within him. Gone is the newfound bravery, replaced by the familiar panic that rattles him to the bone. No matter how much of his repressed feelings he just spilled out, he doesn’t think anything will ever quite prepare him for Yuta’s response.

_You’re right; you’re not worth it. I don’t need you in my life. You’re a hassle. Let’s break up._

Sicheng scrambles out of the tub as fast as he can, ignoring Yuta’s startled call of his name. “Um, just think about it!” He yelps, tripping over a bathmat and just barely catching himself against the sink. “No need to rush! Take your time and, er, don’t worry about me—I’m fine! Fine!”

_Fucking liar._

He dares one quick peek at Yuta, except he immediately wishes he hadn’t because Yuta’s face is completely blank, eyes lowered and muscles slack. Is this, Sicheng wonders in trepidation, the beginning of the end?

Out of pathetic, undignified desperation, an “I love you!” rips its way out of his throat right before he dashes out of the bathroom. For what reason, he’s not so sure.

Other than a few hiccups—both major and minor—on the first day, the next few days of the retreat are the same old same old routine.

Read: batshit crazy.

Where to even begin? Sicheng can’t even pinpoint the exact moment things started going to hell, because as far as he’s concerned, the trip went to hell the very second Ten suggested this place and only escalated from there.

How about starting with the sleeping arrangements? With Ten, Johnny, Yuta, Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Jisung taking up the three bedrooms, the rest of them were forced to divide the tents. Naturally, the three couples paired together (and of course Jeno and Jaemin also have Bongsik with them) and as the only two women, Sooyoung and Seungwan instantly claimed each other. So that left poor Sicheng with his ambiguous relationship status to find someone to third wheel, which went about as expected.

 _This would’ve been a lot easier if you hadn’t fought with your own boyfriend,_ the devil on his shoulder snidely reminds him. And it’s not like Sicheng can even argue with that because it’s true—he could’ve been sleeping on a warm bed with Yuta curled against him, and instead he’s freezing in a thin sleeping bag while Taeil and Doyoung whisper and giggle and kiss less than a foot away from him.

Correction: he _was_ freezing in a thin sleeping bag with Taeil and Doyoung right next to him on the first night, but that one night was more than enough for him to show up outside Mark and Lucas’s tent the next evening, demanding for a refuge from the gross couple that made him feel painstakingly single despite not technically being single (yet). Lucas is more than happy to accept him while Mark is a bit more awkward but makes space for him anyway. What a sweet kid.

Correction number two: Mark _was_ a sweet kid until, on the third night, Sicheng returns from brushing his teeth, unzips the tent, and finds Mark bent over with his mouth around Lucas’s—

“Son of a bitch!” Sicheng screams, promptly falling on his ass from the sight of _way_ more of Lucas’s lower half than he ever wanted to see.

“Ohmygod—I’m so sorry, hyung!” Mark pulls away and screams back, face completely red—whether it’s from embarrassment or because he just had a dick in his mouth is unclear—and Jesus fucking Christ, are those white droplets at the corners of his mouth? Holy…

Blindly, Sicheng snakes his arm in and grabs at his sleeping bag, praying there aren’t any stains on it. “I’m gonna fire you, Xuxi!” He barks in Mandarin.

“You can’t do that! I know you don’t have the authority!”

“W-well fuck you, too!”

Jaemin blinks in confusion when he unzips his tent. “Sicheng-hyung? What’s wrong?”

Sicheng forgoes formalities as he shoves Jaemin aside and throws his sleeping bag on the ground. “Remember when you asked Lucas if Mark’s mouth is big enough?”

“Um, yeah?” Jaemin furrows his brows, exchanging questioning looks with Jeno. Aw, how cute—the two of them have matching pajamas and headbands. What an adorable couple.

With a stony face, Sicheng mutters, “The answer is no.”

Jaemin blinks again, then it dawns on him. “Oh,” is all he can say. Slowly, he zips the tent back up and takes a seat next to Jeno. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Jeno agrees, scandal written all over his face as he strokes Bongsik’s head.

“Oh,” Sicheng grieves.

Like the saints they are, Jeno and Jaemin leave him half the tent to himself and respectfully fall asleep in their shared sleeping bag without any excessive cuddling, kissing, or anything worse. What angels.

Correction number three: They _were_ angels until Sicheng wakes up the next morning with a cat lying on his face and cutting off his airstream. Of course. Of fucking course.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jeno pouts apologetically over breakfast. “Bongsikie can be a little too friendly with people she knows. She must have recognized you and thought it would be okay.”

Even Jaemin is sympathetic for once. “If it makes you feel any better, she tried to suffocate me every night for a month when Jeno first moved in. I’ll never forget the taste of cat fur.”

“Thanks,” Sicheng mumbles, glumly shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

At that moment, Mark strolls in looking for breakfast, notices Sicheng, squeaks, flushes pink, and hightails it back outside.

“Oh,” Sicheng, Jaemin, and Jeno sigh in unison.

As much as he likes the kids, Sicheng is not looking forward to being suffocated again (he doesn’t fuck with breath play, _thank you very much_ ) which is why he’s forced to stoop the lowest he’s ever had to go.

“No,” Sooyoung responds disinterestedly before he can even say anything. “No fraternization between opposite sexes. Sorry, but I make the rules here.”

Sicheng frowns. “What kind of heteronormative bullshit is that? Also, I’m literally gay, you’re married, and Seungwan-noona has no soul. No offense,” he quickly adds with an apologetic glance Seungwan’s way.

“None taken,” Seungwan shrugs as she braids her hair.

“As pathetic as you look right now,” Sooyoung stares down at him contemptuously, taking in his pleading expression, cloud-patterned pajamas, and the pillow and sleeping bag clutched in his arms, “you’re gonna have to give me one good reason why I should let you crash in our tent when you’ve got three others to choose from. Or you could, I don’t know, go sleep with your boyfriend inside.”

Literally none of those options sound the least bit inviting. “Because you’re my friend?” He offers weakly.

Naturally, Sooyoung is not one to be swayed by the power of friendship. “How about this,” she drawls, looking far more threatening than one should in a pink nightgown and foaming face mask. “Say, ‘I’m a sad, sad idiot who doesn’t deserve a goddess like Park Sooyoung and shall be forever indebted to her’ and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sicheng glares. “I’m literally asking to spend one night in your tent, not to move in permanently with you and Sungjae.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to be on my good side?”

“I’m a sad, sad idiot who doesn’t deserve a goddess like Park Sooyoung and shall be forever indebted to her.”

“Much better. Alright then, come on in, buddy.”

As expected, he wakes up with lipstick and eyeliner drawn all over his face. Damn Park Sooyoung to hell and back.

The chaos isn’t restricted to sleeping arrangements, either. Much like how they played truth or truth on the first night, Jongdae and Chanyeol keep forcing them to play dumb games none of them have touched since high school for the sake of “team bonding”, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean (how are they supposed to bond any further when they’re already too far gone?). Dare or dare (AKA, the non-pussy version of the game) on day two is, for better or worse, cut short after Jongdae and Chanyeol are forced to kiss again and the former throws a chair at Ten when he catches his so called second favorite son filming. Unfortunately, Sicheng’s eyes first had to go through the horrific sights of Johnny giving Ten a lap dance and nearly crushing his much smaller boyfriend with his strong thighs, Sooyoung taking a shot of ketchup mixed with vodka and vinegar, Lucas’s impromptu strip show that Mark seemed to enjoy a little too much, and, worst of all, Taeil spitting into Doyoung’s mouth (Sooyoung cheered whereas Sicheng almost vomited because oh my god, what the hell is wrong with this team?).

Day three sees a game of capture of flag during the day that ends about as disastrously as one would expect (the highlight: Johnny steals the flag from right under Jongdae’s nose and sprints off with those unfairly longs legs of his. Ten tries chasing him down, but unfortunately his much shorter legs are no match for Johnny so out of desperation, he lunges forth and attempted to tackle Johnny to the ground. Sadly, this fails as Johnny evades him and Ten faceplants in the dirt. Sicheng is ashamed to admit he spends the entire game in jail after getting caught by Doyoung early on).

The next day, after a barbecue and soju dinner, Seungwan suggests a few rounds of spin the bottle (“I’m single and surrounded by tons of attractive adults; I demand the rest of you to fulfill my quota of lip on lip action.” “Yeah, but who would want to kiss you?” “Fuck off, Ten.”). That also goes about as expected, with a few picture-worthy moments like a disgruntled Ten giving his greatest nemesis (AKA Doyoung) a smooch and Jaemin forcing Mark into a liplock while Lucas nearly breaks his back laughing and even Jeno is consumed by a fit of giggles. When Sooyoung spins and the bottle lands on Sicheng, the latter’s first reaction is a dry, “Only on the cheek, please.”

“Don’t be such a little bitch, Sicheng,” Sooyoung scoffs, right as she grabs him by the back of his head and plants one on his lips (overall not a terrible experience, but he still makes sure to exaggeratedly wipe his mouth after she pulls away).

The game comes to an abrupt end as Jongdae gets Chanyeol. The idiot duo wolf whistles and jeers, to which their favorite assistant manager/team dad responds to by picking up the bottle and throwing it into the woods (“Littering is bad, hyung!” “ _Good night_.”)

On the fifth day, Chanyeol wakes them all up at five in the morning for a sunrise hike, seemingly forgetting that the majority of the team is a) lazy as hell and b) unmotivated as hell. They don’t set out until six, and at the time the sun had already risen so what was the point of the hike anyway?

“Physical activity is good for you!” Chanyeol explains brightly. If he was Suburban Dad before, he’s now transformed into Outdoorsy Dad (“DILF,” Taeil casually remarked, effectively causing Sicheng to choke on his water. Doyoung merely assented and gave Taeil a fist bump) with his athletic shorts, enormous hiking boots, tank top, and bandana tying his hair away from his eyes. He hasn’t even broken a sweat, whereas his jeans-and-sweaters-clad team are all dying, and that’s without carrying a toddler on their shoulders.

“If it’s so good for us,” Seungwan huffs, leaning on the stick she’d picked up earlier for support while Ten leans against her, “then why do I feel like dying right now?”

“No pain, no gain!”

“I’m applying for a transfer the second I get back. Got any room in Incheon, John?”

Ten whips his head up. “ _John_? Since when were you on a real name basis?” He demands accusingly.

Seungwan shoves him. “Oh I’m sooooo sorry for being besties with your boyfriend, _Chittaphon._ ”

“How _dare_ you!”

Ever the wise man, Johnny pretends he didn’t hear anything and runs off to catch up with Chanyeol and Yuta at the front.

Ah, right. About that.

Earlier that morning, Sicheng had been surprised to find Yuta lacing his shoes on the deck. From what he’d heard from the others with cabin rooms, Yuta had been awake and suffering from coughing fits until deep in the night. He hadn’t left the cabin once since the retreat began, only occasionally emerging from his room to use the bathroom or eat with the team. Obviously Sicheng hasn’t spoken a word to him since the bathtub conversation, but it doesn’t take a genius to deduce that Yuta’s still far from healthy with his washed out complexion and the way he needs to lean on someone or something to stay upright if he stands for too long.

“You can’t possible be serious,” Sicheng blurted out before his brain to mouth filter could kick in. _Oh wait, we’re not on great terms. Right. Fuuuuuuuuuuck._

Yuta stilled and peered up through his bangs. “About what?” He blinked, and if he was as affected as Sicheng then it doesn’t show.

Sicheng crossed his arm and nervously shifted his weight. “You’re sick,” he pointed out bluntly. “I know you love hiking and you’re a manly mountain man and all, but you’re gonna pass out on the trail and then your unconscious ass will roll down the mountain. Is that really what you want?”

_Way to go, Sicheng. So smooth._

Yuta seemed amused, if not a bit perplexed. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured with an easy, blinding smile that made Sicheng’s knees weak.

“You say that now, but in about an hour you’re gonna feel it,” Sicheng muttered, ducking his face so Yuta wouldn’t see his reddening cheeks.

A hand brushed his hair just briefly and lightly enough that Sicheng almost thought he imagined it. “I’m okay, Winko,” Yuta tilted his head, not quite smiling anymore but not quite neutral, either. “I’m okay. I promise.”

And then Ten called his name, so he jogged off without another word, leaving Sicheng frozen in place.

What on earth, Sicheng thinks as he trudges up the stupid mountain, could that interaction have meant? Does Yuta really feel okay, or is the temptation of the mountain air and a sunrise hike too much for him? Why would he use that nickname? Surely that’s a sign that he doesn’t want to break up, right? Has he thought through everything? Does he see Sicheng in his future? Does he even _want_ Sicheng in his future anymore? What if—

“Watch out!” Doyoung high voice pierces through the air.

_Huh?_

Too late does Sicheng realize that, while being so consumed in his thoughts, he’d been about to walk right into a tree. Since he’s God’s favorite child, it only makes sense that as he attempts to veer back onto the path, he trips backwards over a root and _wait, why is the world spinning_?

Oh, that’s right. Because he’s rolling down the hill, that’s why.

_Well, I guess this is it. Goodbye, cruel world; hello, Hell. Tell my mother I love her._

Suddenly, a hand grabs his forearm, jerking him to a halt. Groaning, Sicheng shakily tries to stand up only to wince and plop back down from the pain in his, well, _everywhere_. Twigs and dirt and other gross shit cling to his clothes and hair, and he doesn’t have to look down to see the cuts on his exposed arms and feel the stinging on his face. What little shred of dignity that remained immediately vanishes once he glances up and gets a good look at his guardian angel.

Kim Doyoung’s sweat-streaked, wide-eyed, bunny-esque face stares back at him. “You okay?” Doyoung pants—he must be out of breath after chasing Sicheng’s pathetic ass down the path—and loops an arm around Sicheng’s shoulders to help him stand.

“I totally owe you,” Sicheng responds blankly, still in shock that of all people, Kim fucking Doyoung saved his life not once, but twice.

Doyoung quirks his brow half in amusement and half in concern. “Yeah yeah, we can talk about that later,” he stifles a laugh. “Consider it my apology for basically kicking you out of the tent.”

“Hey,” a deep voice joins the conversation as Johnny jogs down to meet them with Ten hot on his heels. The rest of the team stands a good distance ahead, peering down at the three of them in worry.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate to support Sicheng from the other side, stooping down to match their heights. “Where does it hurt the most?” He frets, biting his lip as he takes in Sicheng’s disheveled appearance.

 _Pretty much everywhere, but not as badly as my heart._ “Ankle,” Sicheng answers, swallowing back a cry when pain convulses through his left ankle.

Ten bends down to inspect the damage. The second his cool fingers touch Sicheng’s swollen ankle, Sicheng lets out another undignified yelp and kicks out on reflex, nearly booting his friend in the face.

“Definitely sprained,” Ten reports grimly. He exchanges a look with Johnny, then gets up and waves at the others. “Come on, we’ll take you back to the cabin for some first aid. The others will understand.”

Sure enough, the rest of the team seems to have already gotten the hint as they continue their ascent to the top. A single figure dwindles behind, and of course Sicheng knows who it is despite the shadows marring his face. When Yuta finally turns his back and walks away, it takes everything in Sicheng to not break down on the spot.

Johnny and Doyoung manage to half-carry, half-drag him back down the path and into the cabin while Ten takes the lead. After seating him on the closet toilet lid, Johnny and Ten bustle off to the kitchen to find the first aid kit, leaving Doyoung to delicately pick out the debris from Sicheng’s clothes and skin.

“Honestly, I expected Taeil-hyung to be the one rolling down the mountain, not you,” Doyoung remarks in a gentle attempt to lighten the mood.

“Mmm,” Sicheng nods, tears pricking his eyes at the soreness in his neck.

Doyoung throws the twigs into the trash and picks up a washcloth. He wets it with warm water before leaning in close and dabbing at the cuts decorating Sicheng’s arms and neck and face. “Of course, Taeil-hyung would’ve done that on purpose so he could quit hiking and come back here to relax. You know how he is with any physical activity more intense than walking.”

“Yeah.”

“I took him rollerblading for our second date and he refused to skate by himself. He made me drag him around the rink instead—actually, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure that was just an excuse to hold my hands. Damn, he’s good.”

“Uh huh.”

Doyoung either doesn’t mind or understands Sicheng’s noncommittal responses, so he carries on with anecdotes about Taeil while cleaning Sicheng’s cuts. Sicheng tunes him out after a story about how cute Taeil’s smile was when Doyoung surprised him with his favorite cake after a taxing day of work—not because he doesn’t care, but because he doesn’t have the strength to do anything but weakly bob his head to Doyoung’s reedy yet soothing voice.

He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and the picture of his strained eyes and dirty face is enough to make him taste bile in his throat. Doyoung must have some sixth sense or something what with how quickly he reacts, pulling Sicheng off the toilet and raising the lid to let him proceed to throw up the contents of his stomach.

Sicheng is a mess. Nothing but a goddamn mess. He’s fucked up over and over again in ways so badly that he should have learned from by now, but what has he taken out of everything? Fuck all, that’s what. And now he’s collapsed with his cheek against the toilet bowl, body littered with cuts and scrapes and bruises, ankle fucked up, and the potential end of his relationship with the best thing that ever happened to him looming like a dark, ominous shadow. Some fucking life he’s living, and the worst part is that he is the only one to blame for all his problems—him, and him alone.

“There, there,” Doyoung hums, rubbing Sicheng’s back in an unexpected gesture of kindness. He eases Sicheng to an upright position and lets him lean on him, not caring about the dirt being transferred to his pristine white shirt. “Feel better now?”

“Kinda,” Sicheng croaks scratchily. His throat tastes like he swallowed an entire sheet of sandpaper and another wave of nausea hits him.

Doyoung calmly flushes the toilet and picks the washcloth back up to finish cleaning Sicheng’s face. “I don’t know you well at all,” he remarks frankly, thin lips quirking in a wry smile. “I know you’re Chinese and a tsundere and in love with Yuta and some other small things Taeil-hyung told me, but that’s about it. I do, however, know you well enough to be able to tell that you’re beating yourself up a lot for things that aren’t necessarily your fault.”

Sicheng scoffs, or at least he tries to. The sound that leaves his throat is garbled beyond recognition, stuck somewhere between a cough and a choke. “How can you say that when you don’t even know me?”

“Because I know what it’s like to hide pain,” Doyoung smile turns grim, completely unlike the gummy one he’s always flashing to Taeil. He runs the washcloth under the sink again to wring out all the dirt. “It’s not exactly fun being called Satan all the time, you know. Even if it’s just a joke, that shit starts getting to you at some point.”

 _Oh_.

Suddenly, all those jokes about Doyoung being the supreme evil overlord of hell don’t seem quite so funny anymore.

Doyoung grips Sicheng’s shoulders and maneuvers him so his back is against the sink. “Don’t worry, I’m over it now,” Doyoung clarifies as he takes Sicheng’s hand in his and starts cleaning his arm. There’s a glint in his eyes as he adds, “Remember that time last year Chanyeol was pressured to make pay cuts and almost axed me from the team? I was seriously considering just stepping down because I thought I wasn’t welcome, and then I overheard Ten asking people to sign his petition to keep me. That’s when I knew, and even though the jokes still hurt for a bit, it was better now that I knew how people really felt about me.”

Sicheng does remember that incident very well, actually. Ten had been the one to call an emergency meeting with the roughly same aged friends and spent an hour ranting about how real teams don’t leave anyone behind and drafting his petition. Sicheng and Yuta had helped edit it and even went to a few of the other floors to get signatures. In the end they hadn’t even needed the petition because Chanyeol had wagered a deal with the CEO to keep everyone and their wages, but everyone took it so seriously that they ended up with hundreds of signatures.

He didn’t know Doyoung knew, though, and that fact makes everything a bit sadder but all the more sweet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Sicheng groans, wincing at the stinging of his cuts. “Why is everyone hiding so much? Why can’t we all just tell the goddamn truth? Is it that hard? ”

Doyoung takes a moment to finish cleaning one arm, then moves on to the next. “Well,” he muses thoughtfully, lips pursed in concentration. “Think about it this way: Maybe people aren’t hiding themselves to spite you, Sicheng. Maybe we’re doing it because we’re all vulnerable and insecure and unstable, so we try to retain control by keeping the only parts of ourselves that we can hidden away from people who can hurt us. Because everyone in our lives has the potential to harm us and the only thing we can do is make it harder for them to.”

“The funny thing is,” he chuckles, something akin to affection blooming in his gaze. “I never expected Moon Taeil to grab me by the arm and drag me to dance. I worked with him for what, two, three years without ever speaking to him and all of a sudden there he was, tipsy and interested in me of all people. I thought it was just a joke at first, or at the very least some type of wine-induced move he’d never speak of later. But then we talked for real for the very first time and I was like, holy shit, where have you been my entire life, why did I never approach you before when you were literally right there?”

 _That’s Taeil-hyung for you,_ Sicheng can’t help but grin. Wacky and unpredictable and sometimes downright weird, but always someone you want to keep in your life.

Doyoung plucks a twig out of Sicheng’s hair. “I don’t know how long or if Taeil-hyung and I are gonna last. That much is too far out of my control. But what I do know is that I’ve found my person. Not _the one_ or _my soulmate_ because I don’t necessarily believe in that stuff, but he is my person. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m with him I just think, _oh, this works. This was meant to be_. It’s like, there are just those people in your life that you’ll always want more time with, and sometimes if you’re lucky they’ll find their way back to you if you miss out on your first chance. I mean, just look at Johnny and Ten.”

Sicheng can hear the couple talking in the kitchen, bickering playfully as they search for medical supplies. A high-pitched squeal rings through the cabin, no doubt coming from Ten. Judging by the deeper laughter, Johnny probably poked him in the side or tickled him.

A decade is an awfully long time to wait for someone, but Sicheng supposes things worked out for Johnny and Ten. They both got their second chance with the one that got away, and this time they didn’t let each other go.

Tossing the washcloth in the sink, Doyoung sighs and reclines against the door. “I really, really, _really_ like Taeil-hyung,” he murmurs fondly. “He’s someone I’m willing to take a risk on because I know that even if things ultimately don’t work out, he’s worth it—and that’s more than enough to put my trust in him.”

The way Doyoung speaks about Taeil is so… _intimate_. Sicheng forgets that they’ve only been a thing for around a month and haven’t officially given themselves a label yet, because the way they talk about and look at and smile at each other makes them seem like a couple that’s been in love for decades. What happened to the slightly awkward, devious troublemaker Sicheng’s known for years? How is Doyoung so confident and self-assured about his feelings? Has he always been like this?

The foul taste in Sicheng’s mouth lingers. _Why can’t I be like that?_

Doyoung offers him a comforting smile. “So I don’t think you need to stress about whether you’re good enough or deserving of someone’s love. Forget all those what ifs and just enjoy your time together because yeah, maybe you won’t be together forever because there’s no telling how long you’ll last. If you think Yuta is your person—and I know you do—then hold onto him and don’t let go unless you have to.”

Is it really that simple?

Sicheng hangs his head and whispers, “But what if I’ve already lost him?”

“No, you haven’t,” Doyoung snorts dismissively. “And you’d have to be a fool to really believe that.”

 _Well, I_ am _a fool._

Ten lets out a triumphant yelp of _Found it!_ As his and Johnny’s footsteps approach the bathroom, Doyoung exhales loudly and pushes himself to his feet. With one last upward tug of his lips, he ruffles Sicheng’s messy hair and says, “If nothing else, at least be a bit kinder to yourself.”

The real question, however, isn’t whether Sicheng deserves to be kinder to himself. It’s _how_.

The others return just in time for lunch, by which point Sicheng’s finished cleaning up. Johnny constructed some kind of makeshift brace out of bandages for his ankle and instructed him to take it easy because the injury wasn’t anything too serious but still an injury nonetheless. Then Ten pushed him into the shower, wrinkling his nose and complaining about the smell. After changing into a fresh set of clothes, Sicheng helped heat up leftover meat and rice, hobbling around as best as he could as a partial cripple.

Since the whole rolling-down-a-hill-and-nearly-dying-had-it-not-been-for-knight-in-shining-armor-Doyoung incident was dramatic enough, Chanyeol and Jongdae deemed it would be best to keep the rest of the day as low key as possible. Johnny fired up some American comedy movie with Korean subtitles into the DVD player. He and Mark spent the entire runtime laughing obnoxiously loudly like teenage boys at jokes that clearly made more sense in English, but Sicheng didn’t particularly mind since he was only half paying attention to the film, anyway.

It’s no secret that there are plenty of inter-office romances within the team—hell, there were literally only two members who were single and Chanyeol almost had one with a previous team member—but now, as they’re all crowded together in the living room, Sicheng has never been more acutely aware of the fact. Ten had frowned when Seungwan took the only open seat next to Johnny, but now he’s more than happy from his perch on the floor between Johnny’s legs while the latter cards his fingers through Ten’s hair. Lucas took one look at their setup and immediately manhandled Mark into the same position with coos of _my cute baby lion_. Jeno’s leaning against Jaemin’s chest while he cuddles Bongsik to his, the picture of content with the two loves of his life around him. Halfway through the movie, Jongdae got a FaceTime from Sunyoung and left to go talk to her in the privacy of the kitchen. Sooyoung isn’t even watching the TV as she texts Sungjae updates. And even though Taeil is completely absorbed in reading the subtitles, that doesn’t stop him from playing with Doyoung’s fingers.

Yuta’s only on the other end of the couch, but even that distance is too far. Sicheng itches to reach out and touch him, craving the contact he’s been starved from during his self-exile. He can see and feel the love from the couples around him and that only serves to make his heart hurt all the more. Sicheng has—had?—that with Yuta too but why is there so much space looming between them? How can he hold on when he can’t even close the gap?

If there’s one thing he knows for sure, it’s that Yuta is his person—hell, perhaps even the love of his life. Fuck, it doesn’t matter what the label is; he misses Yuta so much, and he maybe isn’t worthy after all but he still wants him, anyway.

So late that night, after he’s brushed his teeth and changed into his sleeping clothes, he snags his pillow from the girls’ tent and marches up the steps of the cabin and down the hall to the last bedroom, heart pounding loud as a drum.

Yuta doesn’t appear surprised in the slightest when he opens the door to find Sicheng waiting. He simply ushers him in and shuts the door behind him, hand never leaving the small of Sicheng’s back.

There are a million ways Sicheng could explain himself even though he doesn’t have to. _I’m sorry_ is too vague, _I need you_ sounds too selfish, _I don’t have anywhere else to go_ would be too flippant, and _I love you,_ while true, isn’t quite appropriate. The only thing that can summarize even a fraction of how he feels is a quiet, raw, “I miss you.”

The hand on his back curls into the fabric of his shirt. Yuta studies his face for a moment that stretches on for what feels like hours, his own visage carefully neutral. His hair has gotten a little longer since the last time Sicheng took a good look. Now, Yuta’s bangs obstruct Sicheng’s view of his eyes, and that little detail bothers the latter more than it should. Sicheng’s tempted to push Yuta’s hair off his forehead but chastises himself at the last second, still not quite sure where their boundaries are.

Finally, Yuta loosens his grip and takes a step back. He inclines his head to the side and jerks his chin to the window. “C’mon,” he murmurs in invitation. “I wanna show you something.”

And who is Sicheng to say no?

In hindsight, perhaps he should have declined.

He doesn’t quite know how he got himself to this position with his crappy ankle, but now here he is, poised on the tiles of the roof with Yuta huddled against him. All he remembers is Yuta pushing the window open and gracefully slinking outside with a mischievous wink and promise of _it’s not that scary, c’mon Winko_ (not that scary, his ass. Sicheng wouldn’t say he’s afraid of heights, per se, but what sane person voluntarily climbs on a window pane and scrambles onto a roof covered in what he hopes to be moss and not mold?). And now here they are, one wrong move away from falling off a building and into potential death.

Fucking classic.

True to his manly mountain man persona, Yuta doesn’t seem to mind the cold despite the wind biting at his exposed arms and legs, whereas Sicheng’s entire body is consumed by shivers. Subtly, he presses his side against Yuta’s even more, desperate for any bit of warmth he can get.

“Is this even safe?” He grumbles, nervously eyeing the drop and calculating how high of a fall it would be (he already rolled down the mountain today; the last thing he needs is to take another embarrassing fall).

Yuta chuckles. “Probably not,” he shrugs, casual as can be. “But if anything happens, we can sue Johnny for negligence.”

“Didn’t he make us sign liability forms before we left?”

“Oh, that’s what those were? I didn’t read anything I signed.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Mmm, you know me.”

 _But do I?_ Swallowing, Sicheng shuffles even closer and dares to press his temple to Yuta’s. “I’d like to think I do.”

Yuta goes quiet. He doesn’t shy away from Sicheng’s touch but doesn’t quite reciprocate it, simply letting Sicheng lean against him for support without asking for any back. Sicheng nearly yelps when he feels fingers dancing on top of his knee—he’s not sure what he was expecting, but this closeness certainly wasn’t it. Still, he’s not about to complain, so he urges himself to be even bolder and loops his arm with Yuta’s and rests his hand on Yuta’s wrist, not quite brave enough to go for his hand.

“I saw you begging Sooyoung for a place to stay last night,” Yuta states. The light spilling from the cabin is just barely enough for Sicheng to make out Yuta’s features, but he can hear the lingering note of concern.

Yuta’s hand stills on his knee. “I was up here a couple nights ago, too, when you opened Mark and Lucas’s tent and screamed. Not gonna lie, it was pretty funny seeing you all flustered even though you weren’t the one caught in a compromising position.”

The taboo memory of Mark stretching his mouth as wide as he could to try (and fail) to accommodate Lucas’s (somewhat surprising, somewhat unsurprising) girth burns in his memory. “Please don’t remind me of that ever again,” Sicheng bemoans, shuddering as the image of Lucas’s lower half haunts him (lord, he will never be able to look at his protégé the same way ever again).

“And the first night too, when you got so annoyed with Taeil and Doyoung that you left the tent and stomped outside for a bit before giving in and going back,” Yuta ponders, gaze trained straight ahead into the darkness.

Self-consciousness washes over Sicheng as he realizes he’d not only been caught, but how lame he must have looked bouncing around trying to find someone to take pity on his sad self and give him refuge for a night. “You try going through what I’ve been through and coming out without scars,” he jests weakly, too embarrassed to defend himself.

“Don’t worry,” Yuta laughs, the sound like music to Sicheng’s ears. “You looked so cute, all frustrated and throwing tantrums whenever something unfortunate happened. Admittedly it was probably a lot funnier for me than it was for you, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Sicheng’s ears burn despite the cold evening breeze. “Right,” he grits his teeth awkwardly. “Excuse me as I hurl myself off this roof. It’s been nice knowing you. See you in the next life.”

Yuta’s laughter grows louder. “Hey now, don’t be so dramatic,” he teases, playfully slapping Sicheng’s knee. “You should’ve seen yourself—it was like watching a lost, confused duckling.”

“Really not helping, mister,” Sicheng side eyes him suspiciously. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be like, annoyed at me or something? I did just avoid you for a month straight and turned to our dumb coworkers over you because I was that desperate.”

“Aha, so you _were_ avoiding me. Finally, he admits it,” Yuta declares grandly. Despite his words though, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered as he slides his hand up to do what Sicheng couldn’t in joining their hands together, knocking the breath out of Sicheng’s lungs.

_What…what does this mean? Does he forgive me? Hate me? Is this goodbye?_

Yuta squeezes his hand. “You did all the talking the other night, so I’d say it’s my turn now, hmm? So listen like a good boy and hear me out before you be all self-deprecating, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for Sicheng to reply and simply barrels on, never once loosening his grip on their hands. “You wanted me to think about a lot of stuff after that monologue of yours, so I took your advice and spent these past few days thinking things over. Now before you try and argue that that isn’t possibly enough time, I’m gonna have to remind you to stay quiet and just listen to me first.”

“You’re not the best at expressing your feelings or dealing with change and big life decisions, and I get that. I never expected you to magically change and suddenly become this person who is good at all that stuff because, well, that’s just not realistic, is it? You’re always gonna be you, and that means there are some things that are more difficult for you than others. And that’s fine, because I’m also far from perfect and I could spend all night talking about my own flaws.”

“What flaws?” Sicheng quips.

Yuta lightly bumps their heads together. “Shhh, let me finish,” he grins. This time, he gives in and fully slouches against Sicheng’s side, nuzzling his head against Sicheng’s jaw.

“My point is, I think you’ve always been too hard on yourself, Win. You tend to focus too much on the negative and overthink the things that shouldn’t matter so much while overlooking the good parts. And then you start blaming yourself for things you shouldn’t and bottle all your feelings in, but instead of exploding you shove them into the back of your mind and pretend they don’t exist. Maybe you haven’t noticed that yourself, but it hurts when I see you struggling with something you’ve been overthinking and there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“But there is one thing I think I can help with.”

Yuta’s breath fans against Sicheng’s ear, tickling the sensitive skin around the juncture of his jaw and neck as he whispers, “Remember when I told you that you make me sad?”

_How could I forget?_

“Sometimes you do. But all those little moments don’t matter so much because more than anything else, I feel happy when I’m with you.”

Sicheng’s heart stutters in his chest. “But I don’t want to ever make you sad,” he protests feebly. _Not when you deserve to be happy all the time._

Yuta shakes his head. “That’s not something you or I or anyone can avoid, Sicheng. Sadness is inevitable, but that doesn’t mean we have to be defined by it.”

“You wanted me to think of my future, right? I did that too, and even though I could spend the rest of my life coming up with all the possible outcomes I realized that none of them matter because there are still millions of others that could come true.”

“I don’t know where we’ll be in ten, twenty, thirty years. I don’t even know where we’ll be next year. But what I do know is that even though I may not have the foresight, I want you to be still there with me, _happy._ ”

Even in the darkness, Yuta’s perfect smile sparks with electricity. “You know how you always tell me I’m one of the best things to ever happen to you? Because _you_ are the best thing that ever happened to me, too. You will always be worth it, Sicheng.”

And in that moment, with the stars that usually are hidden by the Seoul city lights peeking out through the trees in the background, Yuta has never quite looked so beautiful and Sicheng _knows_.

It took him long enough, but he thinks he finally knows.

He isn’t sure whether he’s about to cry or faint, so he lets his body move on autopilot and crushes Yuta to him, kissing him in a wild, uncontrollable fervor.

“I’m still sick,” Yuta protests, but despite his words he only wraps his fingers around Sicheng’s collar and tugs him closer.

“Don’t give a shit,” Sicheng mumbles against his lips. He missed Yuta’s smile the most in the time they were apart, but the sensation of kissing him comes as a close second. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Yuta lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah?” He breathes, flattening his palm against the nape of Sicheng’s neck.

“Obviously,” Sicheng huffs. Then, deciding that the best way to prove his point is to show it, he reconnects their lips and swallows whatever cheeky counter Yuta had prepared.

_I’m sorry. I love you. I want to be with you._

Yuta’s always had a penchant for rings, and as he plays with the hairs at the nape of Sicheng’s neck, Sicheng can feel the cool metal tingling against his skin.And he can see it—

_A man on one knee. An arm looped through his as he walks down the aisle. A weight sliding on his fourth finger. A pair of lips sparking with electricity._

—and it’s not quite real yet and it still terrifies him, but maybe a little less than before. Maybe.

He’s got plenty of time to work on that, after all. Perhaps twenty-six is still too young to truly understand what forever means, but there’s no age limit to knowing how it feels to have someone he wants to be with—someone he _loves_ more than he ever thought possible.

Because what matters is that even though there’s still so much to talk about, Yuta loves him. Yuta wants him the same way Sicheng wants Yuta, and that’s a feeling he never wants to forget.

 _You are my future._ You _._

_Tell him._

So he does, and the light in Yuta’s eyes is, without a doubt, the second most beautiful sight to grace this godforsaken world.

And it’s all just—

Perfect.

Simply perfect.

(Of course, knowing Sicheng’s luck, that perfection doesn’t last for very long)

(Because a shrill, unearthly screech startles him so violently he flings himself off of Yuta and careens backwards, forgetting that he’s on top of a fucking roof)

(He tumbles through the air and probably would have snapped his neck had a tent and its unlucky inhabitants plus a cat not broken his fall)

(Although there is a rather curious snapping sound accompanied by a high pitched mewl once he smacks into the ground)

(His first thought: _Oh fuck, the Na-Lee household needs to buy a cat-sized coffin now_ )

(Then the pain kicks in, sharp at first and then a searing, white-hot pressure that forces tears out of the corners of his eyes)

(His second thought: _Wait, that’s my wrist. And that sound came from me_ )

(So much for perfect)

(Fuck everything)

“I’M OFFICIALLY A DAD!”

“Dae, you’ve been a dad for years now. Shut up and let people sleep.”

“NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY, GIANT ELF!”

“Oh my god—are you okay, Sicheng-hyung?”

“Blink twice if you need help.”

“Sicheng-hyung!”

“Why isn’t he moving?”

“I don’t know, um, maybe he’s meditating?”

“I think he’s dead.”

“ _Nana!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the ending seems rushed, that's because it low key was. But I tried :')


	8. some moments of peace before things go to hell again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Never try what these crackheads are about to do in real life. It's most likely illegal.

Dr. Kim pinches the bridge of his nose and sharply inhales. “You know,” he remarks, exhausted patience dripping off each word. “I’ve encountered my fair share of… _odd_ patients, but you guys probably take the cake.”

“Thanks, Doc!” Ten grins, flashing his signature megawatt smile and makes a cheeky V-sign with his fingers.

Johnny lightly taps his fist to the top of his boyfriend’s head. “I don’t think that was a compliment, Tennie,” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

“Eh, I’ll take it anyway.”

“You’ll take anything when you’re that easy,” Sooyoung coughs under her breath, prompting a snort from Johnny.

Sicheng groans, and he would have banged his head against the wall if he weren’t a) already suffering a Ten-induced migraine, b) too tired to lift a pinky, and c) oh yeah, _lying in a hospital bed with one cast around his wrist and another around his ankle and consumed with pain from head to toe._

Beside him, Yuta lets out a quiet laugh and takes Sicheng’s good hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. “To be fair, we are pretty dumb,” Yuta admits, shooting Dr. Kim an apologetic smile. He absently runs his thumb over the back of Sicheng’s hand (oh, how Sicheng has missed this), adds, “But I’d also like to clarify that the only dumb decision we’re responsible for was listening to Sooyoung. Everything else kind of, um, just happened from there.”

“Hey!” Sooyoung protests indignantly, bolting out of her chair with an argument ready. Johnny raises a brow at her and she seems to think better of it, then shrugs and sits back down. “Yeah, it’s definitely my fault. I’ll take the blame for once.”

Dr. Kim tilts his head in begrudging curiosity. “Do I even want to know?” He wonders sardonically, handsome face conflicted between humoring these idiots and maintaining his sanity. Privately, Sicheng wonders how he ever passed the bedside manners test with such a sarcastic tongue.

“No, you don’t,” Johnny, ever the voice of reason, gravely shakes his head.

“Wait,” Sicheng frowns, trying and failing to crane his neck so he can actually get a good look at his friends dispersed around the cramped hospital room. “Since I was kind of, ahem, _out of it_ , during everything, I’m actually pretty curious too. Like, all I remember is falling and Sooyoung shoving something into my mouth and the rest is all a blur.”

Sooyoung blanches so rapidly it would’ve been funny had Sicheng not immediately been consumed with a feeling of dread. Oh god, just what the hell happened in the past fifteen hours? What kind of bullshit did his idiotic friends get up to? Why can’t he remember any of it? Does he even _want_ to remember at this point?

“Hey, Doc?” He mumbles wearily. “When’s my next morphine dose?”

“Not soon enough,” Dr. Kim responds gravely.

Yuta squeezes Sicheng’s hand again, sympathy all over his expression. “Babe, I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear about all the, er, misadventures we had getting you here,” he solemnly explains while also not explaining anything at all.

 _Well that’s just fucking fantastic._ “Just tell me now while I’ve still got painkillers in my system,” Sicheng grunts, flopping back against his pillows in resignation.

Ten coughs out a laugh. “Funny, actually, because that’s where the problem started,” he remarks with a sheepish smile.

Dr. Kim’s brows shoot over the frames of his (probably fake and just for fashion) circular glasses. “I’m concerned,” he declares flatly.

“So,” Sooyoung exhales loudly. She nervously plays with the end of her ponytail and keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I guess it all started when Sicheng fell off the roof…”

_“I think he’s dead.”_

_“_ Nana!”

_“Huh, I wonder what’s going on out there,” Seungwan yawns, blearily rubbing at her sleepy eyes._

_Sooyoung can’t resist giggling a bit at Seungwan’s rather unfortunate bedhead and bangs that are sticking straight up. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she waves her hand nonchalantly, already snuggling back against her pillows. “Just the boys being dumbasses as usual, nothing too pressing.”_

_Noticeably more awake now, Seungwan jolts upright, lips twisting into a concerned frown. “Wait, but did you also hear that thump a bit ago or did I imagine that? And maybe a scream too?”_

_“A thump?” Sooyoung knits her brows in confusion. Now that she thinks about it, there_ had _been a rather loud sound that woke her up moments ago. A_ very _loud sound, actually. Almost as if someone took a fall from a high vantage point. A roof, perhaps…_

Hold the fuck up.

_Lightning fast, Sooyoung rips open her sleeping bag and unzips the tent. “Go back to sleep, unnie. I’ll be back in a sec.”_

_“You sure you don’t want any backup?” Seungwan raises a brow, yet she’s already reclining in her blankets again._

_“Trust me, I can kick these boys’ asses any time,” Sooyoung smirks._

_Seungwan snorts and closes her eyes. “Ain’t that the truth.”_

_On the first night, the two of them had purposefully moved their tent a fair distance away from the other three because who knew what kind of the bullshit the boys would get up to (and oh, there’s been plenty of bullshit—especially with Sicheng). Jeno and Jaemin’s tent is the closest to theirs, but it takes Sooyoung a moment to find it because it’s no longer pitched up but completely crumpled against the ground. At first she thinks that maybe it was Hurricane Mark striking for the third time, but the prone figure sprawled on top of the tent is a bit too tall and lanky to be Mark. A bit too…_ Chinese…

Dong Sicheng, I’m going to murder you.

_Sooyoung lazily smooths Jeno’s ruffled hair to calm the panicked man. “He’s not dead, dumbass,” Sooyoung sighs, already regretting ever getting out of her tent. She eyes Sicheng’s body and prods him with the tip of her shoe. “Although he may be close to it, actually. Would one hundred percent deserve it, too.”_

_Normally this would be the point at which Sicheng bites back with some snarky retort, but no sound comes out of his parted lips as he stares unblinkingly up at the night sky._

_“Um, Sicheng?” Sooyoung tries again, kicking him a little harder and still receiving no response._ Okay, this is starting to be a little concerning. _“Sicheng? Blink once if you’re still alive, twice if you need help?”_

_Nothing. Nada. Zip._

Shit.

_Jeno hugs Bongsik to his chest as he pokes his head over Sooyoung’s shoulder. “Um, noona?” He pipes up nervously, eyes wide with trepidation behind his round (utterly adorable, why is this kid so goddamn innocent?) glasses. “Is it just me, or does his wrist look kinda…wrong?”_

_“Hmm?” Sooyoung’s gaze travels to where, sure enough, Sicheng’s wrist lies at an awkwardly unnatural angle on the ground. A gasp escapes her throat and she immediately kneels down to assess the damage. Nervously, she touches the swollen, uneven skin. “Holy shit—I think it’s broken!”_

_“What?” Yuta’s anxious voice rings through the air as he materializes out of thin air, immediately dropping to his knees on the other side of Sicheng._

_Sooyoung has zero clue what happened roughly thirty seconds ago, but, based on the moss lining Sicheng’s pajama pants and Yuta’s palms and the fact that the ledge of the roof is directly above where they’re standing, it would appear that the number one domestic couple of the office were having a (long overdue) heart to heart on the roof (for some godforsaken reason) and something startled Sicheng into falling off (because he’s a fucking idiot like that). And, since she can see and hear Jongdae prancing about the living room inside screaming at the top of his lungs, she thinks she knows the culprit, too. Fucking Jongdae._

_How classic. Leave it to the woman to be the responsible one._

_“Right,” Sooyoung groans, because midnight really is the perfect time for messes like this. “So we should probably get this one,” she pokes Sicheng on the cheek with her index finger, “to a hospital because he’s definitely not dead but I’m also pretty sure he’s definitely not okay, either.”_

_As if to prove her point, Sicheng finally blinks. His unfocused eyes naturally drift to Yuta’s face and a slow, stupid smile blooms across his face while everything from the neck down remains limp and unmoving. “Pretty,” the idiot slurs, grinning toothily at his perfect boyfriend._

_Yuta bites down on his lip to hide a smile. “He’s definitely not okay,” he agrees, still finding room for amusement despite the direness of the situation (whipped)._

_Sooyoung drags a hand through her long hair. Fucking hell, now she remembers why she lowkey hates the couple—what do they have to be so fucking domestic and perfect for each other for? Stupid Sungjae would’ve fainted if she were in Sicheng’s position, and then his dumb princess ass would insist that he was the more urgent patient. Sooyoung shakes her head and says, “Yeah, let’s get him to a hospital or something. I don’t know for sure if his wrist is broken, but we shouldn’t try and fix it ourselves. I’ll see if someone’s willing to drive back.”_

_She lets Yuta, Jeno, and Jaemin tend to the delirious Sicheng while she ventures inside the cabin. Jongdae’s still dancing about at the birth of his third child despite the commotion outside while Chanyeol exhaustedly massages his temples, no doubt fed up with his wacky frenemy. Johnny and Ten are also awake, casually munching on crackers together in the kitchen as they snicker at Jongdae._

_“Hey,” Sooyoung greets, flashing a V-sign. Without waiting for a response, she announces, “So Sicheng fell off a roof and I think he’s broken; go drive him to a hospital,” and promptly continues down the hallway to the bathroom, ignoring Johnny’s dumbfounded noises of protest._

_She’s fairly sure there was a bottle of Advil in the medicine cabinet, but when she opens the mirror there are only some spare toothbrushes and a floss container._ Of course I shouldn’t have expected men to have shit, _Sooyoung sighs internally._ Can’t count on them for anything, clearly. It’s a woman’s world out here.

_Just as she’s about to close the cabinet, however, something orange catches her eye. A prescription bottle with Chanyeol’s name on the label stands innocently on the top shelf, little white pills filling up a quarter of the container. Sooyoung plucks the bottle and brings it closer to her face, squinting at the description to make out the tiny characters. She can just barely read the words “pain relief” but everything else has faded from age._

_Technically, she really shouldn’t be digging through someone else’s prescribed medication, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Plus, it can’t possibly be that bad, right? Sicheng just needs a little something to take the pain away, so it’ll be fine. Probably?_

_With a shrug, Sooyoung unscrews the cap and pours a pill into her palm, then puts the bottle back on the shelf—and it’s only at that point does she make out the name of Chanyeol’s prescription._

_The name looks oddly familiar and a little, insistent voice in the back of her mind urges her to stop and think for a moment about what she’s just done, but Sooyoung’s far too tired and done with the world to care so, without further ado, she turns on her heel and makes her way back outside._

_“Here ya go,” she announces grandly, squatting down despite the protesting from her knees (damn, she’s getting old) and pushing Sicheng’s mouth open. “Bottoms up, Duckling.”_

_Yuta peers at her skeptically, hands cradling Sicheng’s head on his lap. “That didn’t look like Advil…” he trails off, unsure._

_“Yeah, I couldn’t find any,” Sooyoung shrugs. She stifles a yawn behind her hand, says, “The only thing I could find was Chanyeol-oppa’s Vicodin.”_

“Hang on,” Dr. Kim interrupts with a yelp. His artfully graceful face is utterly baffled as he stares quizzically at the ragtag group in the room. “Did you just admit to a c _ertified physician_ that you gave Sicheng-ssi someone’s _prescribed medication_? Something that is very much _illegal_? And _Vicodin_ of all things?”

Sooyoung and Ten exchange identical gaping, fish-faced expressions. Sicheng deeply suspects that they’re all thinking _Oh, so that’s what we forgot,_ and he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he were right. Johnny, the sole responsible figure who’s also too lovesick to protest to any of Ten or his friends’ wacky ideas, merely facepalms.

“Um,” Sooyoung smiles sheepishly, as if her pretty face were enough to make everything better. “Yes?”

“So that’s why I don’t remember anything?” Sicheng demands, voice shaking. Good lord, why is he only surrounded by fools? “Because you gave me a fucking _narcotic_? Don’t you know there’s an opioid crisis going on? I could’ve developed an addiction or something!”

The fools in question all hang their heads in shame.

Dr. Kim’s eye twitches. Why he hasn’t called the cops on Sicheng’s friends—or perhaps drug dealers would be the more appropriate term now—yet is a mystery, but he looks about two seconds away from losing it completely so it might happen any second now. Lowly, almost threateningly, Dr. Kim’s face darkens as he asks through gritted teeth, “And then you immediately took him to see a professional, _right_? That’s how he got that bandage job on his wrist when you brought him in?”

Sooyoung’s lips stretch in a pained grimace. “Let’s just say that that’s what we _should_ have done, but sometimes life likes to throw curveballs your way,” she offers meekly.

“What the fu— _heck_ does that mean?” Dr. Kim demands flatly.

Ten raises his hand. “So the cell service up there was terrible, right? That’s why Johnny-hyung drove me, Sooyoung, Yuta, and Sicheng out of the campsite and we were going to go to Seoul but then I had this _great_ idea…”

_“This is a horrible idea,” Johnny states flatly. His resting expression already makes him look like he’s reconsidering his entire life (relatable), but now more than ever he appears especially done (but still handsome as ever). “Ten, I can’t believe you talked me into this. I’m never listening to you again”_

_Ten rolls his eyes. “Babe, you act like you’re tough shit but we all know you’re the easiest person on the planet. All I had to do was put my hand on your thigh and—”_

_“Not a single word more out of you, Mr. Chittaphon.”_

_Smirking, Ten raises his fist and pounds on the door before them perhaps a bit too aggressively for three in the morning. “C’mon, I swear it’ll work. Just give him a few more minutes and he’ll show for sure!”_

_Actually, Ten isn’t all that sure about this foolproof plan. Either the door will open within the next thirty seconds or they’re gonna get ignored and get yelled at by the neighbors for causing a ruckus at this hour, but Ten’s always been an optimist and it’s too late to back out now._

_Johnny groans, agitatedly ruffling his hair when Ten hits the door again and still no one answers. “Okay, we’re going. It’s literally three in the morning and the last thing I want to do is deal with—”_

_Just as Ten poises himself to strike again, the door violently swings open to reveal none other than—_

_“—a pissed, sleep-deprived Jung Jaehyun,” Johnny finishes with a sigh. Resigned, he limply waves, clarifies, “This was all Ten’s idea, by the way.”_

_Jaehyun narrows his eyes, a gesture made ten times more intimidating by his considerable lack of a shirt and the pair of sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips (holy shit, he really does works out. So Taeyong wasn’t bluffing, huh. Go figure). His thick hair is noticeably ruffled and sweat lines his brow and wait, is that, erm, fluid, what Ten thinks it is on his (incredibly well-sculpted) abdomen? Well…_

_Jesus fucking Christ, this man is a_ beast _._

_A beast that’s red-eyed and fuming, that is. But then again, Ten lost his sense of self-preservation years ago and besides, Jaehyun’s a big softie so what’s there to be afraid of? Ten’s parents did not raise him to be a cowardly little bitch. So with a cheerful beam, Ten exclaims, “Hey, Jae!” and waves like this is just a normal Thursday and he totally didn’t just show up at Jaehyun’s place in Jeonju unannounced at an ungodly hour of the morning. Obviously not, because that would be ridiculous. It would be even more ridiculous if they had an unconscious man in the back seat of their car waiting with two of their friends, but clearly that’s not the case here. Duh._

_Unfortunately, Ten’s brilliant smile only darkens Jaehyun’s already annoyed countenance even more. Jaehyun inhales deeply before exhaling and, in a dangerously calm voice, lowly growls, “I just got off my sixth twelve hour shift this week and this is my only free day, so if you don’t have a good reason for showing up at my door, I will literally kick your ass to the curb.”_

_Johnny cautiously takes a step back. Ten merely rolls his eyes. This is just classic Jaehyun—the guy’s normally nothing more than a dimpled teddy bear, but there are two things you don’t fuck with when it comes to Jung Jaehyun: his sleep and his sex life._

_Ten also knows that he’s walking a dangerous line because by the looks of it, he just interrupted both. Regardless, he figures he’s already come far enough so why not finish the rest of the ride to hell? So he cranks up his smile to max and laughs, slapping Jaehyun on his bare bicep (oh hell yeah) as he jokes, “Relax, Jae. I mean, we both know you weren’t sleeping anyway—not when you could be pounding Yong into the bed, amirite?”_

_Jaehyun’s hands clench into fists, and Ten has a feeling he’s going to hell when his only thought is_ damn, that’s pretty hot. No wonder Sooyoung and the rest of the world have a crush on him. Taeyong really hit the jackpot.

_“You have five seconds before I slam this door in your face,” Jaehyun threatens icily._

_Johnny, deciding that Ten should never be trusted with his own life (a wise decision from a wise man), steps forth and offers Jaehyun a placating grin that only makes Jaehyun’s glower deepen even more. “So I know it’s like, ass o’clock in the morning and everything, but our friend Sicheng kinda fell off a roof during a work retreat and we think he broke his wrist and maybe hurt his ankle too?. The two of us—” he gestures to himself and Ten“—and Yuta and Sooyoung were on our way back to Seoul to get him to a hospital, but Ten realized that Jeonju is on the way and he said you do emergency medicine so you could probably help. So, um, can you?”_

_The irritation on Jaehyun’s face diminishes, only to be replaced by what Ten can only describe as mixture of dumbfounded and_ literally-what-the-fuck-is-this-dumbfuckery-who-the-fuck-are-these-fuckheads _. “First of all,” Jaehyun heaves out a loud sigh, crossing his arms over his bare chest (aw, dammit). “I’m not a doctor.”_

_“Yes, you are,” Ten supplies ever so helpfully. He would know; Taeyong’s only shoved fifty thousand pictures of Jaehyun in his scrubs and lab coat in his face to swoon over how hot his husband looks while working._

_Jaehyun impatiently taps his fingers against his tricep (out of sheer curiosity, Ten can’t help but wonder if that thing is bigger than Taeyong’s head). “I’m a PA, hyung. There is no MD in my title,” Jaehyun explains in exasperation._

_Ten tilts his head. “There’s a difference?”_

_Johnny slaps one of his huge hands over Ten’s mouth (something he also really likes to do during—) without even looking his way. “Hush, you,” he chides._

_Jaehyun wearily rubs at his eyes. “There is a difference—several, actually,” he groans, clutching at his temples where a headache is sure to be forming. “But the main one is that I literally can’t give treatment without a doctor present. So that’s the first mistake you made coming here.”_

_“But can’t you still do some medicine-y things? Like, this is an emergency and you do emergency medicine!” Ten points out, voice muffled from behind Johnny’s massive hand._

_“Yes, I can help in case of emergencies,” Jaehyun concedes. “But that leads me to the second problem at hand: I’m at home, not at the hospital. I don’t just keep medical equipment stashed in my house, so the best I can do is like, offer some Tylenol.”_

_Johnny sucks in a breath through his teeth and nervously glances at Ten. “Um, does that offer still stand if we’ve already given him painkillers?” Johnny smiles meekly with all the sheepishness of a child about to scolded by his father._

_Jaehyun frowns. “I mean, as long as you didn’t give him too much. How high was the dosage?”_

_“Uhh…”_

_Taking pity on the poor, floundering, love of his life, Ten sticks his tongue out and licks Johnny’s palm. Johnny lets out a disgusted yelp and rips his hand away from Ten’s mouth. “Gross, Ten!” He cries out, despairingly wiping his palm on his jacket._

_Ten snorts. “Funny how you never say that when I lick your—”_

_“One of our coworkers had the brilliant idea of stealing our manager’s medication for his chronic knee pain,” Johnny hurriedly explains with a wince. “Once again, I’d like to establish that none of this was my idea.”_

_Jaehyun blinks once, twice, and then a third time for good measure. If he didn’t already look done enough when he first opened the door, he now appears just about ready to hurl himself or the intruders off a cliff. “Please don’t tell me you gave him what I think you gave him,” Jaehyun deadpans._

_“In that case I think it’s better to remain silent,” Ten offers gravely._

_Jaehyun grabs two fistfuls of his hair in despair. “For fuck’s sake—what was it? Fentanyl? Hydrocodone? You can’t just give narcotics to anyone! Why in the fuck did you think that would be a good idea—“_

_“Hyunnie?”_

_A soft voice interrupts the squabbling. Ten, Johnny, and Jaehyun all snap their heads in the direction of a small, skinny figure making his way down the hallway. None other than Lee Taeyong presses himself against Jaehyun’s side, large eyes curiously blinking at the scene before him. Taeyong isn’t wearing anything but a very oversized dress shirt that most certainly doesn’t belong to him with only half the buttons done up. Dark marks are littered all over his neck and collarbones and even peek below the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt on his thighs. He looks, for lack of a better word, positively debauched, with dazed eyes, blown pupils, and yep, that’s definitely rope burn on his wrists. Yep._

_Damn._

Dr. Kim rolls his eyes in the picture of professionalism. “Is this part of the story truly necessary? Because no offense, but I’d rather not have to hear about your friends’ kinks, thank you very much.”

“What d’you mean, Doc? Of course this is important—” Ten begins to retort.

Johnny promptly silences his pesky boyfriend with another light yet meaningful tap of his fist to the top of Ten’s head. “Okay, I’m finishing the rest of this part,” he cuts in, shooting Ten a warning look.

“Fine. You’re no fun,” Ten huffs.

“Can we please get on with this already?” Dr. Kim bemoans. “In all honestly I wish I’d never asked, but now I’m far too invested to not hear this out. So tell me, what other bullshit happened?”

“Right,” Johnny sighs. “So Taeyong shows up, right? That’s when…”

_The exasperation on Jaehyun’s face morphs into soft, mushy adoration so suddenly Johnny’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “Hey there, kitty,” Jaehyun coos, immediately wrapping his arms around Taeyong in a tender embrace and nearly bending him in half as he slots their lips together. Taeyong squeaks in surprise, then eagerly tugs at Jaehyun’s hair and lets out a loud, filthy, and definitely not PG moan when Jaehyun starts nibbling at his neck._

_Ten eyes Johnny from the side. “How come you never seem half as excited whenever you see me?” He sniffs like a true primadonna._

_“What’s there to be excited about?” Johnny retorts dryly._

_“Fair enough.”_

_Now that Johnny thinks about it though, they really do need to step up their cheesy romance game. After their K-drama worthy rough start and ten years of build up, his relationship with Ten has actually been pretty chill so far. Sure it sucks that they don’t work together or live in the same city anymore, but that only makes the weekend drives to Seoul all the better once he’s reunited with his favorite midget. Perhaps next week Johnny should take him to Lotte World on a proper date instead of immediately jumping each other and never leaving the bedroom for the rest of the weekend. Yeah, that sounds great._

_Tucking that mental note into the back of his mind, Johnny forces himself to address the more immediate problem at hand and loudly clears his throat to capture the canoodling couple’s attention._

_“Oh!” Taeyong exclaims in surprise, eyes as wide as dinner plates as he somehow manages to break away from Jaehyun and gapes at Johnny and Ten in pleasant delight. “Oh my god, it’s you two! I’ve missed you so much!”_

_Bless Taeyong’s soul, really. What a pure, lovely man. Never mind the fact that Johnny and Ten were just at Taeyong and Jaehyun’s wedding a little over a week ago and Ten literally calls every night and the fact that they just interrupted Taeyong and Jaehyun’s nighttime activities; Taeyong is a true saint whom the world truly doesn’t deserve._

_“Tennie!” Taeyong cries, wiggling out of Jaehyun’s tight embrace and flinging himself into Ten’s arms like a koala._

_Ten stumbles at the unexpected weight, but luckily Johnny manages to catch him by the shoulder and steady him. “Easy there, Yong,” Ten laughs, affectionately patting Taeyong’s soft hair.“I know you’d die without me and all, but don’t make your husband jealous.”_

_“Of all people you’re the last I’d ever be jealous of,” Jaehyun sasses in return._

_Taeyong steps back to let Ten breathe, but he’s still got Ten’s hands encased in his and is practically vibrating with happiness at seeing his best friend again. “Oh my god, you’re here! Wait,” Taeyong innocently tilts his head. “_ Why _are you here, Tennie?”_

_“Well,” Ten sucks in a breath through his teeth. He nervously glances up at Johnny and then Jaehyun, says, “It’s kind of a long story…”_

_“Oh?” Taeyong blinks. “Then would you like to come in? It’s a bit chilly out right now and poor Hyunnie doesn’t have a shirt.”_

_Jaehyun pinches Taeyong’s waist, causing the latter to giggle. “And whose fault is that, huh?” Jaehyun accuses with no real malice._

_Taeyong merely giggles again and stands on his tiptoes to leave a quick kiss on Jaehyun’s dimpled cheek. “As if you could resist me!”_

_Now Johnny may not know Taeyong and Jaehyun nearly as well as Ten does, but he can recognize a sickeningly in love couple when he sees one. And, judging by the warm shine to Jaehyun’s eyes, the two of them are about to start making out—or worse!—again and, while Johnny is all for love, he needs to be the one to put his foot down and take control of the situation. God knows where they’d end up if Taeyong and Jaehyun get too carried away and, knowing Ten, he’s probably already forgotten the issue at hand._

_So, just as Jaehyun starts leaning in and Taeyong puckers his lips expectantly, Johnny loudly blurts out, “We were on a work retreat when our friend fell off a roof and probably broke his wrist and possibly his ankle so Ten thought we could stop here and ask Jaehyun for help but since that clearly isn’t possibly we’ll just see ourselves out and go the hospital thanks for dealing with us sorry for showing up at this hour and interrupting your time together so goodbye and have fun with your sexy time alright I’ll stop come on Ten let’s just go—”_

_A small hand slaps over his mouth. “Okay, I think they get the point,” Ten snickers, arm stretched to its full extent in order to just barely reach the much taller man’s mouth._

_Johnny narrows his eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”_

_“Oh, hell yeah. I like it when you choke me and all but it’s nice to return the favor every once in a while.”_

_“This doesn’t constitute as choking. Far from it, actually.”_

_“Well that’s your fault for being so fucking massive.”_

_“Massive in all the right places though, hmm?”_

_“Dude,” Jaehyun deadpans, holding his hands up in a time-out gesture while he has one arm slung over Taeyong’s narrow shoulders. “TMI, much?”_

Like you’re one to talk _, Johnny eyes Jaehyun’s exposed chest._

_“Would you at least like some breakfast before you go?” Taeyong pipes up, doe eyes widened in worry._

_“That sounds great,” Ten grins at the exact same moment Johnny not so discreetly elbow him in the ribs and firmly states, “Thanks, but we should really get Sicheng to a hospital. Like, ASAP.”_

_“Agreed,” Jaehyun nods stoically. His arm around Taeyong tightens as he adds, “And it’s like, three in the morning. Way too early for breakfast.”_

_Taeyong, however, either doesn’t get the hint or is too much of a kind soul to let his unexpected guests leave empty-handed. Even when Jaehyun turns them around to go back inside, Taeyong pokes his head over his husband’s shoulder and offers, “Coffee, at the very least? I wouldn’t want you to get into an accident because you’re too tired, Johnny-ssi.”_

_Johnny hesitates. Well, he_ is _feeling rather tired, and he’s never been one to turn down free coffee. Plus, Ten’s raved about Taeyong’s cooking abilities so much that Johnny would be lying if he said he weren’t a bit curious. Just one cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt, right? He doesn’t even have to sit down and drink it; he can just ask to borrow a thermos for the road and have Ten return it later, right?_

_Just one cup it is, then. Just one._

“Wait, let me guess what happened next: You went in for coffee and got so carried away talking to your friends that you forgot about the injured person and other two friends waiting for you in the car, _right_?” Dr. Kim drawls sarcastically.

“How dare you think so lowly of us,” Ten frowns, offended.

For the first time, Dr. Kim actually seems slightly sheepish. He scratches the back of his head and hastily apologizes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume things so much.”

Ten crosses his arms. “Yeah, because we went in for coffee and forgot about our friends because Taeyong started making pancakes. And Johnny-hyung here has a bottomless pit for a stomach so he inhaled like, three stacks in an hour.

Immediately, Dr. Kim’s expression switches back to unimpressed. “I see,” he deadpans, tone suggesting that he most certainly does not actually see.

Sicheng scowls. “So you forgot about me because you were too busy stuffing your faces? Wow, just wow.”

“They didn’t even have the decency to invite me and Soo in for pancakes,” Yuta tsks sadly, pausing in his ministrations of lacing and unlacing his fingers with Sicheng’s to flip Johnny and Ten off.

“Some friends they are,” Sooyoung sniffs, copying Yuta’s gesture.

“Guilty as charged,” Johnny admits gloomily.

Dr. Kim coughs. “So can we please skip ahead to the part where you left and drove straight to the nearest hospital, right? Although,” he lets out his fiftieth beleaguered sigh of the day, “clearly that’s not what happened, because otherwise you’d be in Jeonju and not here.”

“Weeeeeeeell, that’s what Jaehyun told us to do,” Ten smiles awkwardly. “Right before he picked Yong up like a princess and carried them back to the bedroom, that is. He shouted at us to not drive back to Seoul and instead find the hospital he works at.”

“And you lied to him,” Dr. Kim dryly deduces.

“Yep.”

“So instead of taking him to a hospital in Jeonju like any sane person would, you decided to drive all the way here. But why do I get the feeling that more bullsh—ahem, _shenanigans_ happened between then and now? And you still haven’t told me you did that amateur bandage job!”

Wearily, Johnny clears his throat. “I’ll continue with the story,” he speaks up glumly.

“After leaving Jaehyun and Taeyong’s, we were on our way to the nearest Jeonju hospital when shit happened…”

_Ten’s hand slides dangerously closer. “C’mon babe, they’re asleep. Just one—”_

“Nope, I don’t want to hear this part of the story.”

“Yeah, I figured. Want me to skip ahead to when Yuta threw up?”

“Wait, you threw up?”

“Uh, yeah. Multiple times, actually. I’m still sick. Have you not noticed the IV drip connected to my arm?”

“What are you talking about? There’s no—.”

Oh, wait.

_Son of a bitch._

“—yeah, alright then. I see it. Carry on.”

“I think it’s better if I finish the rest of the story. Basically, because Ten was distracting Johnny his driving got a little shitty and I got nauseous so I had to throw up on the side of the road, and then you woke up…”

_“You good, Yuta?”_

_“I don’t know, Ten—do I_ look _good?” Yuta snaps from his position on the edge of the road, on his knees and clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea hits him._

_“I mean, I’ve always thought you were pretty hot. A solid eight out of ten, maybe a nine on a good day,” Ten replies thoughtfully._

_Yuta whirls around. “Bitch, you know I’m a fucking twenty!” He retorts, and he would have said more had his body not had other plans in the form of him retching out last night’s dinner._

_God damn it all, he really hates being sick._

_“Uhh, boys?” Sooyoung chimes in from the backseat, voice anxious and unsure. “I think Sicheng’s awake now.”_

_Upon hearing those words, what little color that remains in Yuta’s blanched out face drains away. “Oh shit,” he utters, praying to any and all higher beings to please knock Sicheng out again right this instant, please and thank you._

_It’s not that he wishes eternal unconsciousness upon his boyfriend (far from that, in fact, because Yuta prefers for Sicheng to remain_ alive _), but two years of living with someone teaches an awful lot about them. Yuta knows every quirk of Sicheng’s, big or little. The way he desires physical contact and warmth when he sleeps. How he scrunches his nose whenever Yuta cooks a dish he’s not particularly fond of but eats anyway. Perhaps Yuta’s favorite is that cute smile that always brings out little whiskers on Sicheng’s cheeks whenever he’s feeling flustered and shy, and obviously Yuta does everything in his power to bring that smile out._

_Unfortunately, during the span of time they’ve been dating, Sicheng had his wisdom teeth removed and Yuta was forced to take care of him when he was chipmunk-cheeked and stewing in his misery over the holes in his jaw. Taking pity on his poor boyfriend, Yuta suggested Sicheng take the stronger painkillers the surgeon had prescribed, thinking that maybe the normal painkillers just weren’t strong enough and all Sicheng needed was a little extra kick._

_The thing is, the prescription didn’t just give Sicheng a kick; they launched him all the way to fucking Pluto._

_Long story short, after a grueling twenty-four hours of Sicheng floating around the apartment in a daze, clinging to Yuta like a sloth, whining like a child, and randomly bursting into screaming and laughing fits that nearly gave Yuta a heart attack, Yuta learned the hard way to never, under any circumstances, give Sicheng painkillers any stronger than a normal dose of Tylenol. Because although they did relieve Sicheng’s wisdom teeth pain, Yuta would rather deal with a moody Sicheng than high-as-a-kite Sicheng._

_“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaby!”_

_One second Yuta’s still squatting on the road, and the next thing he knows he’s got an armful of man hurtling against his chest, knocking him flat on his back._

_Sicheng’s eyes are glazed over and unfocused, the smile on his face positively delirious. “Baaaaaaaabe, I missed you,” he slurs, then promptly nosedives into Yuta’s clavicle._

_Well, Yuta sighs as he tiredly pats Sicheng on the back. He supposes it could be way worse. At least he avoided falling into his pile of vomit. Always gotta think on the bright side of life._

_“Okay, okay, I know,” Yuta soothes. With a groan, he manages to push himself back to a sitting position and lets Sicheng collapse on his lap. If Sicheng’s wrist and ankle are still bad, he certainly isn’t showing any signs of it thanks to the Vicodin Sooyoung shoved down his throat._

_“C’mon, let’s get you back inside the car. You shouldn’t be running around in your condition, let’s—”_

_Before Yuta can finish his sentence, a pair of hands clamp over his cheeks, squishing his face together. Yuta’s eyes widen as Sicheng stares at him with complete seriousness, gaze still cloudy but brows knitted in determination._

_“Y-your wrist,” Yuta chokes out, wondering how on earth Sicheng can squeeze him so much force when his wrist is almost definitely broken._

_Sicheng’s face only breaks out in a dopey grin. “You’re still here,” he muses dreamily, giggling to himself in a manner Yuta finds both endearing and entirely concerning. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”_

_Patiently, Yuta hoists himself to a standing position and pulls Sicheng with him, letting Sicheng crumple against his smaller frame. “Yes yes, I’m still here. But you might not be if we don’t get you to a hospital now, Winko.”_

_“But you’re the only medicine I need,” Sicheng pouts._

_Oh good lord, this really isn’t good for Yuta’s already poor health. Now is most certainly not the right time to start fawning over Sicheng’s cuteness, but Yuta won’t deny that he greatly enjoys seeing his usually stoic and reserved boyfriend act all adorable and uninhibited._

_Yuta holds back a laugh and smiles imploringly at Sicheng’s loopy gaze. “That’s very sweet of you, Sichengie. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m enough to heal your wrist and ankle, so why don’t we get back into the car and take you to the hospital, hmm? How does that sound, Winwin?”_

_As he half-drags, half-carries Sicheng back into the car, Sicheng grumbles something under his breath and pouts again. Yuta nearly coos, then realizes that Sicheng’s expectantly waiting for a response._

_“I’m sorry, what did you say? I didn’t catch that,” Yuta hums._

_Sicheng’s sullen frown deepens. “I still don’t know why you call me Winko or Winwin or Win or whatever. You can’t just leave me in the dark like that!” he whines._

_“I’ll tell you later,” Yuta responds, distracted as he struggles to shove Sicheng into the middle seat._

_Sooyoung shoots him an amused glance as she helps maneuver Sicheng into a sitting position. “Oh, I’d like to hear this reason too,” she smirks devilishly._

_“Yeah!” Sicheng exclaims, throwing his hands in the air and nearly giving Yuta a heart attack when his wrist comes dangerously close to colliding with the roof of the car. Unabashed, Sicheng flops down on his side, resting his head on Yuta’s lap like a content kitten. “I thought we wouldn’t keep any more secrets,” he complains._

Dong Sicheng, you will truly be the death of me. _As Johnny starts the car up again and Ten twists around in the passenger seat to say something to Sooyoung, Yuta bends down until his lips are by Sicheng’s pointed ear and finally tells him the truth._

_“It’s because meeting you was the biggest victory I could’ve asked for.”_

“That is, without a doubt, the most disgustingly cheesy thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Way to break the moment, Doc.”

“Can you _please_ skip to the end already? Unlike the rest of you, I actually have a job I need to be doing right now and I’ve already wasted too much time listening to your misadventures.”

Sicheng’s ears burn, and the reddening only gets worse when he catches Yuta studying his face with that tenderness only Yuta is capable of. “Yeah, just cut to the chase already,” Sicheng groans, hiding his face behind his hands because like hell is he about to ruin his reputation as the number one tsundere by melting into a puddle because of his stupid boyfriend’s cheesiness.

Judging by Ten, Johnny, and Sooyoung’s laughter, though, looks like his reputation is already ruined beyond repair.

Dr. Kim started off standing with arrow-straight posture, but by this point he’s collapsed and slumped over in a chair, glasses removed and fingers constantly rubbing at his eyes. “Just tell me who did the bandage job and why you didn’t go to a Jeonju hospital,” Dr. Kim demands miserably.

“Oh, because Sicheng was high out of his mind and refused to get out of the car when we pulled up to the hospital Jaehyun works at. Yuta-hyung tried carrying him out and everything, but Sicheng kept screaming about how he didn’t want the aliens to harvest his organs or something. So we figured that if we kept driving, he’d fall asleep eventually and then we could sneak him inside a hospital,” Ten summarizes cheerfully.

“Did it never occur to you that you could maybe go inside yourself and get some doctors to help you?” Dr. Kim suggests. “And you still haven’t answered who did the bandage job!”

Sooyoung lifts her head. “Oh, that was my friend Seulgi. She’s a nurse and lives between Jeonju and here, so we made a pit stop at her place too. She made us breakfast too, since _someone_ didn’t invite us in earlier.”

Ten and Johnny very pointedly avert their eyes.

Dr. Kim drags his hands down his face. “So let me get this straight: instead of calling for an ambulance the second you got cell reception, you chose to drive for hours until you reached Jeonju, asked your PA friend to help despite him being off the clock, wasted an hour having breakfast with him and his husband, made another stop to let Yuta-ssi throw up, left Jeonju because Sicheng-ssi was high off _someone else’s highly addictive narcotics,_ made yet another stop at a nurse’s house, had breakfast with her too, and then _finally_ dragged your asses to a hospital after twelve hours?”

The silence and uneasy glances filling the room speak louder than words.

“I’d probably lose my job if one of my superiors heard me, so let’s just abide by the laws of doctor-patient confidentiality as I say this,” Dr. Kim drops his hands and full on glares at the five occupants. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you people?”

“I don’t think that’s how doctor-patient confidentiality works, Doc,” Ten points out accusingly.

“It was worth a shot anyway,” Dr. Kim grumbles and shoves his glasses back on, probably mentally preparing himself for the chewing out he’s about to get from the other attendings.

Sooyoung tilts her head. “You know,” she muses, pursing her lips together in thought. “You really remind me of someone, Dr. Kim.”

“I do?” The doctor blinks in surprise. “I’m not sure whether to feel offended or flattered by that.”

Sooyoung snaps her fingers. “Doesn’t he remind you guys of Jongdae-oppa?” She exclaims excitedly.

“Holy shit,” Ten gasps. “Yeah, he does! Like, his whole attitude and height and everything.”

“Wait,” Dr. Kim stills, something akin to fear crossing his face. “Did you just say Jongdae? As in, Kim Jongdae? As in, ye high,” he holds his hand up at shoulder level (which is kind of unfair because—and not to sound snooty—Sicheng is very sure that Dr. Kim is on the short side himself), “loud as hell, needs someone to wash his mouth with soap, and just had his third kid Kim Jongdae? _That_ Kim Jongdae?”

Sicheng quirks a brow. “Uh, yeah? Why, do you know him?”

Dr. Kim’s eye twitches yet again. Morbidly, he utters, “I wish I didn’t.”

“Eyyyyyy, if it isn’t my man Junmyeon!” An unmistakable voice belonging to none other than the infamous Kim Jongdae shrilly rings through the air as the man, the myth, and the legend himself struts in with a shit-eating grin.

Dr. Kim—Junmyeon?—wearily slips his glasses off again and bares his teeth in a pained smile. “Oh, speak of the fucking devil,” he hisses under his breath, then clears his throat and stiffly says, “Hello, Jongdae. It’s been a while. And that’s Junmyeon- _hyung_ to you, brat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jongdae flippantly waves a hand. “It’s so funny, y’know—I just saw Yifan-hyung because he was checking on Sunyoung and the new monster, and he mentioned that you were busy with some emergency patients that were, and I quote, ‘dumb as hell’. I never thought you’d be with _my_ dumb as hell colleagues, though!”

Junmyeon’s smile turns even more fixed than before. “Jongdae. In case you’ve forgotten, Yifan is my _ex_ -husband,” he corrects.

“Ha! That’s what you say, but my sources tell me that you two have been fucking in the supply closets for months now. We all know you’ll be back together by the end of the week,” Jongdae crows victoriously.

 _What K-drama did I just stumble into?_ Sicheng wonders. Although, if he’s going to be real, this is probably the juiciest drama that doesn’t have to do with him he’s witnessed in ages. Eagerly, he leans forward and listens attentively as Junmyeon flushes pink and nearly drops his clipboard.

“W-what—who told you— _Yixing!_ ” Junmyeon splutters in a very different display from the no-nonsense emergency doctor facade of ten minutes ago.

Jongdae mimes zipping his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed.”

Junmyeon throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “I’m gonna murder that fucking sheep in his sleep,” he vows.

“Um, hyung?” Ten pipes up, eyes glimmering. “Not that we’re not enjoying the drama, but could your dumb as hell colleagues get a little context?”

“No,” Junmyeon shouts at the exact same moment Jongdae claps his hands and launches into a classic unstoppable Jongdae rant.

“So like, Junmyeon-hyung here was one of my college friends, right? He was always the mom of the friend group because he could cook and always flaunted his gold card around, and even when he was at med school he dealt with our bullshit. But then he met Yifan at med school and oh boy, you should’ve seen how whipped he was. Yifan-hyung’s an OB/GYN, by the way—he’s actually been there for all of Sunyoung’s deliveries! So anyway, Junmyeon-hyung and Yifan-hyung accidentally got married because they got blackout drunk after passing their intern exams, but instead of immediately filing for divorce they figured they might as well try out the married life since they’d already been dating for a few years. Well, everything was working out when they were residents, but by the time they got promoted to attendings they were both too busy to really spend time with each other so they decided to get divorced. Except obviously they still had super strong feelings for each other, so even though it’s been a year Yixing—ahem, _my informant_ —keeps catching them making out and having sex during work, so it’s super obvious that they’ll officially get back together soon!”

“Jongdae, I do not approve of this blatant intrusion of my privacy,” Junmyeon complains, expression already defeated as he knows he can’t possibly stop the storm that is Kim Jongdae.

Unperturbed, Jongdae sports a big grin as he suddenly doubles over laughing and slaps Ten’s shoulder. “Oh my god, the best was when they met for the first time in college. We were at this mixer together—Kyungsoo and Chanyeol were there too!—and Yifan-hyung was like, starstruck because he’d never seen a more beautiful man in his life or something. Guess what Yifan said when Junmyeon asked him what he wanted to do after graduating—guess!”

Junmyeon shrinks in on himself. “No, not this story again,” he moans.

“I don’t know, did he ask him to fuck him or something?” Ten guesses.

“Did he immediately proclaim his love?” Sooyoung wonders.

Johnny shakes his head. “Obviously he couldn’t say anything because he was too tongue-tied.”

While the others indulge Jongdae’s jests, Sicheng exchanges scandalized looks with Yuta. _What the hell is going on?_ He communicates through a mere furrowing of his brow.

Yuta’s lips quirk into a grin. _I don’t know, but I’m enjoying every second of this._

_Of course you would be._

_And I know you are too, Winko-Winko._

_Dammit._

Junmyeon hides his face behind his clipboard. “I _wish_ he’d done any one of those things,” he laments.

Jongdae bursts into raucous, uncontrollable laughter. “Yifan-hyung literally gaped, choked, and then,” Jongdae pauses to wipe his tears of glee away. “He deadass said, ’I want to pull mini people out of pussies.’”

_Lord._

“ _Kim Jongdae I will fucking end you_.”

“Whaaaat? Why are you so embarrassed if he’s just your ex, huh?” Jongdae shoots back.

Junmyeon responds by ever so maturely throwing his clipboard at Jongdae, which the latter easily evades. “Go back to your wife and newborn child, you heathen!” Junmyeon yells, shooing Jongdae out with a forceful push to his back. “And stay out of my ER!”

“Technically it isn’t your ER since you aren’t the head of—”

“OUT!”

Hurricane Jongdae dashes out with a maniacal cackle and a call of “Come visit Sunyoung and the kid whenever!”

“Right,” Junmyeon scowls, shoulders visibly relaxing now that his friend—or frenemy? It seems like Jongdae has an awful lot of those—is finally gone. Calmly, Junmyeon plucks the fallen clipboard off the floor and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He clears his throat, says, “Anyway, so normally a broken wrist or ankle isn’t anything too severe, but you’re also pretty bruised up from that fall. I think it would be best if we kept you here for another few days to monitor your condition, and then you’ll have to do some PT after you’ve been discharged. Again, nothing too bad, but it’s just unfortunate that your friends couldn’t get you to a medical professional sooner.”

Junmyeon pointedly looks at the trio at that last part. “And count yourselves lucky that I’m letting you off the hook for the Vicodin incident. Just don’t do it again, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Ten and Sooyoung salute in unison.

Junmyeon closes his eyes. “This has been, without a doubt, the worst hour of my career,” he declares.

 _Amen_ , Sicheng agrees.

Over the course of the next few days, Sicheng’s other coworkers drift in and out of his room to check on him. Taeil and Doyoung come bearing a gift basket of fruits, chocolates, flowers, and packaged snacks Sicheng’s fairly sure are exclusive to China (“Where did you find these? I’ve been looking for them for years and never found them anywhere.” “I have my connections, Sichengie.” “In other words, you don’t want to know how hyung got ahold of them. “Yeah, I really don’t.”).

As Taeil lounges next to Sicheng on the bed with no regard to the crippled man’s personal space bubble, Doyoung chooses to more respectfully take a seat by the window. Taeil fills Sicheng and Yuta, who hasn’t left Sicheng’s side once, in on what happened after Johnny drove off. Apparently Jongdae also wanted to go back to Seoul because of the birth of his new daughter, so the rest of the team figured that they may as well scrap the last few days of the retreat and all head back together.

“Ooh, you should totally go visit Sunyoung-noona when you have the chance. Little Sungkyung is so precious,” Taeil sighs dreamily. “Aren’t babies just adorable?”

Sicheng raises a brow. “I thought you hated kids?”

“False,” Doyoung interjects without glancing up from his phone. “Moonie-hyung actually really likes kids, but he doesn’t want any of his own. I can relate.”

“ _Moonie_ -hyung?” Sicheng nearly gags. _How positively sickening._

“Where’s my pet name?” Yuta teases, playfully pinching Sicheng’s good wrist. Funny how he seems allergic to the idea of letting go of his hand—not that Sicheng’s complaining, though. Not one bit.

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “You’re too lame for a cute nickname,” he retorts without bite.

Yuta dramatically clutches his heart. “How could you, Winko—and after I gave you such a meaningful nickname!”

“I can’t believe you actually came up with that because meeting me was your biggest win or whatever.” _Because same, actually._

“And they call us whipped,” Taeil huffs derisively. “C’mon, Doyo—let’s go get lunch.”

Jeno and Jaemin come barreling in later too, the former bestowing a tray of cat-shaped cookies upon Sicheng and Yuta. “I’m really sorry Bongsikie laid on your face, hyung,” Jeno apologizes, large eyes shining with guilt. “If she hadn’t done that then you could’ve stayed with us and you wouldn’t have fallen off the roof and broken yourself.”

Jaemin lightly elbows him in the arm. “Jen, if it weren’t for Bongsik then he and Yuta-hyung never would’ve made up,” he reminds.

“Oh, right. Then yay for Bongsik!”

Sicheng stifles his laughter. “How’s she doing, actually? I didn’t hurt her when I fell, did I?” _Please don’t tell me they actually need a cat-sized coffin…_

Jeno perks up. “Oh, she’s fine! You actually mostly landed on Nana, but there wasn’t any serious damage!”

“Sicheng-hyung, I’m sending you the bill for the bruise you left on my arm,” Jaemin solemnly remarks.

“Brat,” Sicheng quips in return.

Lucas also swings by, but there’s a considerable lack of a short man shadowing him. “Markie’s too embarrassed to face you after what happened,” Lucas explains nonchalantly as he snags one of Jeno’s cookies from the tray on Sicheng’s bedside table and chomps the delicacy in half with one bite.

“If anything, shouldn’t _you_ be the more embarrassed one?” Yuta wonders curiously. “I mean, it was your dick Sicheng saw, not Mark’s.”

Sicheng groans and bangs his head against his pillow. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles, flashbacks of perhaps the most scarring moment of his entire life threatening to resurface.

“Eh,” Lucas shrugs and grabs another cookie. “I got nothing to hide so I don’t mind.”

_Evidently._

Yuta bites back a smile. “Even if you don’t mind, I’m sure Sichengie here could have gone without seeing your, erm, _manhood_ , kid. Although I’m sure it’s very impressive and all.”

“Dude,” Sicheng deadpans.

“What? You know what they say about tall men.”

Sicheng backhands Yuta’s forearm. “Actually, the saying is about men with big hands and feet. Get it right, hyung.”

(He most certainly does not quickly eyeball Lucas’s enormous hands and shoes the size of boats. No, he does not.)

“It’s funny, actually,” Lucas muses thoughtfully, swallowing the rest of his cookie and brushing the crumbs to the pristine white hospital floor. “The first time I met Mark was when he accidentally walked in on me showering at our college dorm. He was so cute—he literally _squeaked_ and ran away blushing. Then he kept staring at me whenever he saw me, and later he jumped me at a party when he was tipsy and said that my dick size caught him off guard but he really wanted to see it again. Obviously I couldn’t say no, and now here we are five years later.”

_What kind of Gen Z bullshit is this?_

Yuta almost chokes from laughter when he notices Sicheng’s disgusted expression. _Sicheng, you’re a Gen Z-er too._

_It’s still bullshit._

“I see you had no shame back then and still have none today,” Sicheng wryly deduces.

“Yup!” Lucas beams.

Mark never does end up showing his face, which is a pity because Sicheng has a few choice words for him regarding the blatant breaking of Johnny’s rules (“I mean,” Yuta points out when Sicheng brings this up. “Technically Johnny just said no fornication, and Mark sucking Lucas off isn’t technically full blown sex so I guess you could say they found a loophole.” Sicheng chooses to ignore that reasoning and goes back to being his bitter self). Of all people to break the golden rule, Mark Lee would have to be the most unexpected candidate. He’s always been so put together and dorky, how could he possibly be dragged over to the dark side? How could his libido stray him so far off the path?

Anyway. The rest of the team trickles in every now and then with home-cooked meals and words of support. Whenever Seungwan shows up dragging Ten by the ear, the two of them and Yuta end up engaged in some nonsensical argument that Sicheng really couldn’t care any less for but still enjoys regardless because Yuta looks cute when he eggs his dumb friends on. Sooyoung, Taeil, and Doyoung always stop by as a trio too, with Sooyoung displaying tough love, Taeil offering snide remarks, and Doyoung acting as mediator between the three of them.

The most surprising visit, however, comes in the form of Jongdae pushing a wheelchair-bound Sunyoung in the room while Chanyeol trails behind with Jisung in one arm and whom Sicheng presumes to be Jongdae and Sunyoung’s newborn daughter in the other.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite human disaster!” Jongdae greets with way too much pep for ten in the morning.

“I thought that was Ten,” Sunyoung remarks wryly, the dark shadows under her eyes prominent and exhaustion clear in every line of her face.

Jongdae wheels her to a spot by Sicheng’s bed. “Nah, you should’ve seen all the trouble he got up to during the retreat. Even worse than Ten on a good day, I swear. Fucking hilarious.”

“I’m glad you get so much enjoyment out of my suffering,” Sicheng grouses.

“Always, Sicheng. Always.”

Yuta peers up at the bundle in Chanyeol’s arms. “Who’s this?” He coos, waving at the newborn baby with a dazzling smile.

“Meet Kim Sungkyung,” Sunyoung announces proudly. She stretches her arms out and Chanyeol obligingly hands over the baby. As Sunyoung tickles little Sungkyung’s nose, she pointedly adds, “Our third and _final_ child, by the way. I’m never going through this shit again.”

“Aww, darn,” Jongdae sighs. “Woo mentioned wanting a little brother, y’know…”

“Stop right there, mister,” Sunyoung scowls, jabbing a threatening finger into Jongdae’s face. “Need I remind you that you already have three biological children, a godson, and about ten overgrown sons and daughters at work? If you want another kid, you’ll just have to give birth yourself!”

Jongdae breezily pats Sunyoung on the head. “Point made.No more kids, gotcha.” He then turns to Chanyeol and ever so innocently asks, “Willing to pop out some more godchildren for me, Yeol?”

Chanyeol nearly drops Jisung what with how hard he chokes on air. “Why are you looking at me? I’m not even seeing anyone right now!” He protests.

“You weren’t exactly serious with Jisung’s mother, weren’t you?” Jongdae jeers.

“I regret ever befriending you.”

“Well _I_ regret ever letting Kyungsoo date you!”

“Gee, thanks Dae,” a low, vaguely familiar voice joins the conversation as a short, round-eyed man with heart-shaped lips enters the room.

Sicheng’s only seen him a few times, but he knows Do Kyungsoo when he sees him. The only question is, why in the hell is Do Kyungsoo in his hospital room?

Kyungsoo briefly makes eye contact with Sicheng and dips his head respectfully. “Don’t mind me, I just came to visit my goddaughter and was told by Yifan-hyung that my idiot friends would be here. Sorry for the intrusion, Sicheng-ssi.”

“Uh, no problem?” Sicheng blinks.

“Wait,” Chanyeol frowns. “ _Soo_ is the godfather? I thought I was!”

“Aren’t _I_ the godfather?” Byun Baekhyun wonders as he too saunters in.

 _What kind of weird crossover fever dream is this?_ “I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to have this many guests,” Sicheng comments in a deadpan.

Yuta smirks. “Well aren’t you Mr. Popular,” he teases.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

Baekhyun sends him a wave, then turns to Jongdae. “C’mon Dae, I’m already the godfather of your other two kids; I have to be Sungkyung’s too!”

“Hold up,” Kyungsoo glowers. “I could’ve sworn _I_ was Jungwoo and Yerim’s godfather.”

Chanyeol, who turned white as a sheet the second his ex-husband and his _inconclusive_ started breathing the same air, shuffles over to a seat in the corner and hides behind the ever oblivious Jisung. “I guess now is not the right time to mention that Jongdae told me I was his kids’ godfather. Yup. Just ignore me. Nothing to see here.”

“Nothing to see except a giant man and his child born out of wedlock,” Baekhyun teases, a playful shine to his eyes that Sicheng’s never seen before but thinks looks quite nice on Baekhyun.

“Nice one,” Kyungsoo grins and bumps fists with Baekhyun.

Chanyeol shrinks even smaller. “Since when did you two get along?”

“Since we stopped having unspoken fights over you because it’s petty to let a man get between a potential friendship,” Kyungsoo remarks in a solemn tone as he gazes at Chanyeol without blinking.

“Right…”

“I’m still Jongdae’s best friend, though,” Baekhyun quips.

Kyungsoo lifts a brow. “Are you, now? Can you really say you’re his best friend when you haven’t seen him chug an entire keg of beer?”

“Ha! Jokes on you, Penguinsoo—I’ve seen him chug _two_ kegs of beer!”

“While I’m flattered that the two of you so desperately want to be my one true best friend, I’d like to bring the focus back to the real problem at hand,” Jongdae sarcastically clears his throat, says, “Basically, all three of you are our kids’ godfathers; I couldn’t pick and figured I might as well choose all of you. Even though Chanyeol’s a pain in my ass, I had to make him one as well when he was still married to Soo, and I guess it’s just stuck ever since.”

“I’m touched,” Chanyeol deadpans. “In that case, I should probably also confess that you weren’t originally Jisung’s godfather; Kyungsoo was.”

“Ew,” Jongdae wrinkles his nose. “You made your ex-husband your son’s godfather? The son whom, might I add, was the final straw that led to your divorce? What kind of sick joke is that, Yeol?”

Kyungsoo languidly examines his nails. “I was pretty offended when he asked, but I wanted to be a good sport so I said yes anyway. Besides, it’s not like he had any other friends so I took pity on him.”

Baekhyun pats his shoulder sympathetically. “If it makes you feel any better, Chanyeol asked me too and of course I said no because hello, _I’m literally in love with you I don’t want to be Jisung’s godfather but his actual father please love me back_. Just normal thoughts, ya know?”

Chanyeol is the picture of a broken man as he clutches onto Jisung for dear life. “What did I ever do to deserve being tormented by these midgets?” He bemoans, craning his head back to stare imploringly at the big guy in the sky.

“Hey! We’re not midgets!”

“Yeah, you’re just freakishly tall!”

Amidst all the squabbling, Sunyoung rolls her eyes and turns to Sicheng and Yuta with an expression that just says, _boys_. “I swear every time the three shortasses are in a room together it’s already bad enough, but throw Chanyeol into the mix and it’s a recipe for disaster,” she scathingly remarks.

“And you thought it would be a good idea to bring all of them to my room?” Sicheng counters, unimpressed.

“I’ve made mistakes, okay?” Sunyoung sighs. A small yet piercing wail escapes Sungkyung’s lips, prompting Sunyoung to rock the baby in her arms and quietly sing a lullaby under her breath.

Sicheng can see what Taeil means. Personally, he doesn’t care much for babies. He knows they’re meant to be cute and all, but honestly? Babies—especially newborns—all kind of look the same, and that means they’re plain ugly. Sungkyung doesn’t appear any different from any of the babies he’s seen in his lifetime, but there’s something endearing about the way Sunyoung’s soothing voice is just enough to calm Sungkyung back down into a peaceful stupor while her father quarrels with three prospective godfathers in the background.

It’s funny—when kids are that young at only a few days old, they don’t care about anything other than whether or not their sleep is disrupted or if they’re hungry. Sungkyung has no idea how much of a shitstorm life can be, but Sicheng supposes that in some special circumstances, ignorance is bliss. Besides, she’s got all the time in the world to figure out how to deal with everything life throws at for; for now, she—and her family—should just enjoy her time as a baby.

Sicheng glances over at Yuta, whom at some point got ahold of Sungkyung and now he won’t stop letting out squeals of adoration at the tiny life in his arms. Sungkyung’s eyes are screwed shut and she probably hasn’t developed enough visual skills to process anything if she does open them, but she seems to be able to sense Yuta’s perfect, shining smile as she eagerly paws at his shirt and succeeds in wrapping her tiny fingers around his pinky.

_Cute._

Much like Taeil, Sicheng’s always been firmly rooted in his opinion that while kids are nice and all, they’ve never exactly been in his plans. He knows that Yuta adores them, but Yuta’s also never brought up the topic himself either and hasn’t shown any signs that he’s about to any time soon.

Still…

Times like now or when Yuta helped Jisung brush his teeth or when he so much as waves to cute babies at restaurants, Sicheng can’t help but wonder _what if_.

He doesn’t quite shove the thought into the filing cabinet of doom. Instead, he opens a new drawer and leaves it there for another time. A _maybe someday_ of sorts.

Yeah. Maybe someday.

“Alright, I think that’s everything,” Junmyeon proclaims, flipping through Sicheng’s charts one last time before nodding. “Thanks for your patience, Sicheng-ssi; you’re officially ready to be discharged.”

 _Oh thank fuck,_ he sighs internally as Junmyeon starts unhooking all his wires. He must have accidentally said it out loud, judging by the way Junmyeon snorts in amusement.

Yuta grins too. “Thanks for putting up with us, Dr. Kim. I know our friends can be kind of, well…”

“Annoying?” Junmyeon supplies helpfully. “Pains in the ass? Batshit crazy? I’d suggest for them to get drug tests, but I feel like they really are just that weird.”

“Yup,” Yuta and Sicheng agree.

Junmyeon winks. “That’s okay. Unlike my poor ex-husband, I didn’t have to deal with Jongdae and his posse for three days straight, so I’ll count myself lucky.”

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, back to business once again. “Normally broken ankles take up to two months to heal and broken wrists around the same time, but I’d suggest you take it easy these next weeks. Quite frankly, I’m impressed that you only broke two bones after falling off a roof, so don’t jinx it and break something else. I wouldn’t suggest driving or typing or just doing anything with your right hand for the time being, and you don’t need crutches but keep that brace and try not to put too much weight on it. Make sure you attend each and every PT session because you’ll seriously regret it if you don’t.”

“Gotcha,” Sicheng nods dutifully. “Anything else?”

Junmyeon hums, then remembers something and snaps his fingers. “There’s just one last thing, actually. I’d also suggest you refrain from any particularly _taxing_ activities, if you understand what I mean. Ahem, _Yuta-ssi_?”

Yuta blinks, then flushes scarlet. Sicheng can’t see his own face but if the heat rushing to his head is any indicator, he doesn’t look much better.

“Right,” Yuta gulps. He stiffly salutes, says, “Roger that. We got it. None whatsoever.”

“Kids these days,” Junmyeon scoffs with a patronizing shake of his head. “Right, so if we’re done here, I’m sure you can see yourselves to the lobby? I’m supposed to meet Yifan in a few minutes, so…”

Taking the hint, Sicheng clamps his good hand over Yuta’s and starts hobbling for the door. “Yeah, we’re good. Thanks for everything, Doc,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Ever noticed that everyone we meet basically lives in a drama?” Yuta remarks as he helps Sicheng walk to the elevator.

“Oh really?” Sicheng coolly raises a brow.

“Yeah. Totally can’t relate.”

“Neither can I.”

_office idiots two point oh_

_Nakamoto Yuta: [Attachment]_

_Nakamoto Yuta: The little duckling is finally home!!!_

_Moon Taeil: Awwww look at him with his little casts XD_

_Dong Sicheng: @Moon Taeil screw you, hyung_

_Kim Doyoung: That’s my job_

_Dong Sicheng: STAY OUT OF THIS_

_Dong Sicheng: And @Nakamoto Yuta who said you could call me that? Stop it!!! >_<_

_Nakamoto Yuta: <3 love you, Winko-Winko_

_Dong Sicheng: … I love you too…_

_Park Sooyoung: *gasp* he’s actually said it_

_Son Seungwan: This moment will go down in history._

_Ten: The tsundere has finally been cracked!_

_Dong Sicheng: Yeah fuck all of you_

_Park Chanyeol: I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth, kid._

_Kim Jongdae: Agreed. Kids these days really have no manners, do they?_

_Dong Sicheng: Stop talking like we’re not much younger than you guys already._

_Kim Jongdae: I’m sorry, but did you hear something? Sounds like the cries of a child under thirty._

_Park Chanyeol: Yup. Totally irrelevant._

_Dong Sicheng: Hey hyung fun fact Sooyoung broke into your Vicodin and gave one to me okay bye_

_Park Sooyoung: YOU LITTLE BITCH_

_Park Chanyeol: SOOYOUNG YOU DID WHAT NOW_

_Son Seungwan: @Park Sooyoung it’s been fun knowing you. I’ll give a great speech at your funeral._

_Park Chanyeol: SOOYOUNG THAT MEDICATION IS FOR MY SHITTY KNEES AND EVEN THEN I’M ONLY SUPPOSED TO TAKE IT SPARINGLY WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GAVE SOME TO SICHENG DO YOU KNOW HOW ADDICTIVE THAT SHIT IS_

_Park Sooyoung: In my defense I was tired and didn’t realize what I was doing._

_Park Chanyeol: @Dong Sicheng oh my god you’re okay right? You didn’t develop an opioid addiction because of me, did you???_

_Dong Sicheng: Relax, hyung. I’m fine and no, I’m not addicted to painkillers. Yet._

_Park Chanyeol: Don’t you dare joke about that young man addiction is not something to be taken lightly._

_Dong Sicheng: Young man? I’m almost twenty-seven…_

_Kim Jongdae: A PROPER FETUS_

_Park Sooyoung: Wait, how are you typing anyway, Sicheng? Isn’t your wrist broken?_

_Dong Sicheng: Yeah, but my fingers are all still fine._

_Moon Taeil: Bet Yuta’s happy about that._

_Kim Doyoung: Bet_

_Nakamoto Yuta: :)_

_Dong Sicheng: OH FUCK OFF_

“You know, he’s right.” Yuta suddenly whispers into his ear.

Sicheng jumps from his position on the couch. “Shut up,” he glares, and if he weren’t crippled on one hand and holding his phone in the other he would’ve punched that shit-eating grin off Yuta’s stupidly perfect face.

Well, that and he’s far too in love to ever actually commit bodily harm. But Yuta already knows that much.

Speaking of Yuta, what’s with that glint in his eyes? It’s not quite predatory, per se, but Sicheng knows that something’s definitely up.

“What?” He demands as Yuta inches closer, slinking into the spot next to him on the couch.

“Nothing,” Yuta hums, and there goes that glint again. “Just thinking about how cute you are, that’s all.”

 _Yeah fucking right._ “Stop being so cheesy,” Sicheng whines. _It makes me fall that much more in love with you, idiot._

Yuta smirks. “So you don’t want me to call you cute? Does _sexy_ work better then, hmm?”

 _Yes…_ “Don’t even try, mister,” Sicheng warns, but he can feel what little resolve he has crumbling to pieces as Yuta’s breath fans over his neck, followed by a pair of lips he’s missed all too much.

_Yeah, it definitely works._

Instinctively, Sicheng loops his arms around Yuta’s neck to bring them together as Yuta’s lips dapple his collarbone with soft kisses. This is good—this feels right—everything about this moment is just _so right_. Curled together on Yuta’s couch on a warm summer afternoon with nothing but their shirts between them, movements lazy yet insistent at the same time— _this_ is one of many things Sicheng’s missed in the month they spent apart, and now he curses himself for being foolish enough to ever think he could live without it—without _Yuta._

For better or worse, he’d follow Yuta all the way to the pits of hell and he wouldn’t care as long as the they were still together.

Is this what love does to a person? If so, Sicheng doesn’t think he minds as much as he used to.

Right as he cups Yuta’s jaw in his hands and moves to bring their lips together, however, a jolt of pain shoots through his cast-clad right wrist. Ah right. How could he have forgotten?

“Goddammit,” Sicheng curses, breaking away to cradle his injured wrist. Guiltily, he looks at Yuta and groans. “I’m sorry, hyung. This hurts a lot more than I thought it would.”

Yuta leans back to give him some space (dammit). “Hey, it’s okay. You did just fall off a roof,” he attempts to lighten the atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the pain must have triggered something in Sicheng’s brain, because now his mind has gone into overdrive and once he’s started he can’t stop.

“This is literally so unsexy,” he wails, pathetically pointing at his double cast situation. “Like, imagine I’m trying to give you a handjob and all you feel is this stupid cast. You’d like, soften up immediately because it’s just that unsexy.”

Yuta sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying and failing to bite back a laugh. “You’re so cute, Sichengie,” he chortles, lovingly running his fingers through a ruffled patch of Sicheng’s hair.

Mortification floods through his veins. “How am I cute?” Sicheng demands. “I’m the idiot who almost ran into a tree and then rolled down the mountain, and then fell off the roof and broke two bones! I’m just as dumb as the rest of our friends! How the hell is that cute? I’m so stupid and—”

Calmly, Yuta shushes him with a simple yet effective press of his lips, swallowing the rest of Sicheng’s rant before it can see the light of day.

Okay then. Sicheng’s quite alright with this. Quite.

“You’re my idiot,” Yuta murmurs against his mouth, and the words really shouldn’t sound romantic at all but somehow, hearing them from Yuta is enough to launch Sicheng’s heart into overdrive.

Nakamoto Yuta really will be the death of him one day, and Sicheng doesn’t mind one bit.

“Besides,” Yuta adds, a mischievous smirk lining his lips as his hands travel south, fingertips skimming along the skin just above the waistband of Sicheng’s jeans. Whispers, “Who said you had to do the work, hmm?”

_Well._

Yuta’s fingers nimbly pick apart his belt and yep, Sicheng’s definitely missed this, too. Obviously nothing can beat Yuta’s smile, but that’s not saying there aren’t _other_ things Sicheng likes seeing (or doing). A month of separation was far too long, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t relish every moment with perfect, perfect Yuta.

And then the image of Mark Lee choking on Lucas Wong’s dick springs into his mind and yup, moment effectively ruined.

Reluctantly, Sicheng tugs a fistful of Yuta’s hair to get his attention. “Wait, stop. I can’t.”

“Hmm?” Yuta blinks, hands still on Sicheng’s belt.

Grimly, Sicheng shakes his head and deadpans, “Blame Mark and Lucas.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yep.”

Silence.

“ _Well then_ ,” Yuta whistles as he extricates himself from his position on top of Sicheng. After a moment’s pause, his grin is back as he tucks his head in the crook between Sicheng’s neck and shoulder and suggests, “How about we just watch Demon Slayer and cuddle until we fall asleep?”

Sicheng grins. “I like the sound of that.”

Yeah, he’s really, _really_ missed this.

Once again, life goes on. Except this time, it’s a little easier.

Every morning, Sicheng stirs awake to the comforting weight of an arm over his torso and Yuta’s drowsy eyes blinking back at him. And every time without fail, Sicheng smiles at him in greeting and closes the distance between them, exchanging lazy kisses until the alarm blares for the third time and they really have to get out of bed now or else they’ll be late for work.

As per doctor’s orders, Sicheng figures it’s best to avoid driving until he gets his wrist cast off. Yuta drives them to and from work, always making sure to pull into the parking garage a couple minutes early so they can sneak in a few more kisses before it’s time to act professional. Sometimes, if they’re feeling generous, they take pity on poor, license-less Ten and let him carpool with them.

(“Consider this payment for all the emotional strain I underwent dealing with your stubborn asses,” Ten drawls, seatbelt unbuckled and short legs stretched out on the backseat.

Sicheng eyes the soles of Ten’s dress shoes. “Stop tracking dirt in my car,” he complains accusingly.

“Hey! You’d better start appreciating me more, brat.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because he housed you for almost a month even though he’s actually my friend?” Yuta supplies ever so helpfully.

Sicheng smacks him with his good hand. “Well that’s some bullshit logic because he’s my friend too and—oh, _fuck_.”

“What was that?” Ten’s voice jeers and the next thing Sicheng knows, Ten’s sticking his face between the front seats, way too close to Sicheng for comfort. Ten’s smirk is beyond shit-eating as he simpers, “Aww, did you just admit to being my friend after all these years, Sichengie? I’m touched.”

 _Why else would I turn to you?_ “Fuck off, midget.”)

Work is also very much back to its usual routine, with troublemakers running amok, a foul-mouthed yet well-meaning team dad disguised as an assistant manager, and of course couples at every corner. Sicheng and Yuta eat lunch together when they have the same break, and much like with other parts of their relationship that weren’t possible during the separation, Sicheng can’t help but feel struck with how much he craved this intimacy. He wouldn’t say he exactly took Yuta for granted before, but that now, after everything they’ve gone through, he certainly holds him in a closer, more precious place in his heart.

The only real change is how much harder everyday functions are now that he’s got two broken bones. Walking isn’t too bad, but it’s not very much fun to limp around dragging his injured leg behind him and being stuck at a turtle’s pace. The wrist is the bigger issue, because even though he can still text and use his phone with only a little difficulty, literally everything else is a pain in the ass. Sicheng can’t type or hold a pen properly with the cast in the way, so Chanyeol comes up with the brilliant solution of letting Lucas serve as a substitute.

So from now until the cast is off, Sicheng finds himself pushed to the side of his desk, knees crammed against the drawers while Lucas stakes claim to Sicheng’s habitual seat. Lucas is more than thrilled to spend time with his “favorite ge” (“Aren’t I like, the only one? You don’t know any other Chinese people here.” “Yeah, but even if I did you’d still be my number one, Sicheng-ge!” “O-oh…thanks, I guess.”). Sicheng is a little less enthusiastic because he feels downright useless and kind of bad that someone else has to do his job for him, but at least Lucas actually knows the phone lines now and has proven himself to be a more than capable worker. Besides, Lucas isn’t terrible company at all, even if Sicheng still holds a small (read: big) grudge for the horrific sight he had to witness on the retreat (seriously, he really could have gone without knowing just how big Lucas’s dick was).

Mark still won’t look him in the eyes, which was funny at first but after a week or so it started getting annoying because how the hell is Sicheng supposed to figure out scheduling issues when the kid squeals and runs away every time there’s less than five feet of space between them? Eventually, Sicheng snaps and gives Mark a piece of his mind, having had quite enough of his bullshit.

(“Yes, I walked in on you with your boyfriend’s dick in your mouth—get over it! We’re all adults here and even if you’ve scarred me for life, I’m not about to blame you for being thirsty. So can you _please_ give me your fucking schedule so I can figure out when you’re supposed to meet with Park-ssi from the fourteenth floor?”

“Y-yes, hyung.”

In his not so humble opinion, Sicheng would say he handled that situation rather well.)

Chanyeol also calls Sooyoung, Ten, Yuta, and Sicheng into his office one day to have an “emergency meeting” regarding the theft of his Vicodin, but his long, fatherly speech about why what they did was bad and that they should never do it again feels considerably less effective when Jongdae is lurking uninvited in the corner and laughing his ass off. In the end, Sooyoung hands Chanyeol a wine cooler in the form of an apology, which he accepts with only a little reluctance.

But, yeah. Other than a few minor changes here and there, nothing has changed. Everyone is still the same—people still blur the line between working hard and hardly working, Yuta is still Yuta, and Sicheng is still Sicheng, just with a couple casts. And, quite frankly, he wouldn’t have it any other way (minus the casts of course).

It’s not until a Saturday afternoon roughly a month later that he remembers.

Yuta had stepped out twenty minutes ago to buy some snacks for their movie night, so Sicheng figured he’d kill the time by doing every twenty-something year old’s favorite activity: facing the menacing pile of bills and taxes stacked on the dining table with only a bottle of rosé as moral support.

 _I should just hire Jaemin to file these for me_ , he thinks as he unwillingly plugs numbers into his shitty four-function calculator. Math, while not too difficult for him, has never been his favorite thing in the world ( _har har har defying the Asian stereotypes right?_ ) and he can think of about fifty other things he could be doing right now that would definitely be wastes of his time but who the fuck cares as long as he’s enjoying himself?

After calculating just how much of his salary the government plans on taking away from him, Sicheng shoves the tax forms to the side and plucks the next paper off the stack. Ah yes, this makes him feel all the better. Nothing like a credit card statement to really put someone in a bad mood. Usually he doesn’t even actually read the thing and just skips to the end to find out his total, but today he sighs and takes another swig of the rosé to brace himself for the cold, hard truth. Sicheng knows better than to spend money like water, but yeah, he probably didn’t need to buy that membership to that fancy gym the next block over when he hasn’t gone once since then, and okay maybe he didn’t need to buy two new video games either. Perhaps it would be better in the long run to act a bit more frugal.

As he grimaces upon seeing just how many times he went to the chicken shop with Ten last month (and he also makes a mental note to stop letting Ten guilt trip him into treating), something else catches his eye and causes him to set down the bottle with a resounding thud.

Now it’s a well-established fact that Yuta is an angel that the world doesn’t deserve, and that means he’s also very selfless. He actually owns his apartment instead of renting because he’s a responsible, mature adult who isn’t afraid of committment. Even though Sicheng’s been living with him for the better part of two years now, Yuta refuses to let him pay for the bills and insists on paying for his amenities by himself. That doesn’t stop Sicheng from Venmoing him an estimation of his share of the bills, but Yuta always counters by Venmoing him right back and then they go back and forth until one of them pins the other on the bed and—yup. Yup.

The point is, Yuta doesn’t pay rent, and Sicheng doesn’t get billed for utilities because his name isn’t on the lease. With that essential information in mind, that means that when Sicheng sees the words “RENT” and a large sum on his credit card statement, there’s only one thing that could be referring to.

_So we’re back to this again, huh?_

The lease expires on the first day of September, and it’s already mid July. Sicheng hasn’t even thought about his apartment since his reconciliation with Yuta, too swamped with all the other things going on in his life. But now that he really thinks about it, he’s all too aware that this is where it all started. This stupid, abandoned apartment symbolizes the start of the rift that nearly killed him, and Sicheng should by all means just get rid of the damn thing already because there’s no point to continue paying for it when he hasn’t spent a night there in months. It’s now or never to finally cut that string loose, and once he does he’ll be flooded with a feeling of much-needed euphoria.

But why does he still feel that icy fist closing around his heart?

The sound of the bells Yuta stuck on the front door chimes through the air as lithe footsteps patter in. “Hey,” Yuta greets, dumping his armfuls of plastic bags on the kitchen counter. He brushes Sicheng’s fringe to the side and drops a kiss on the crown of his head, murmurs, “Bills, huh? How’s that going?”

“Like hell,” Sicheng quips back, tugging Yuta down by his jacket collar to properly kiss him once, then twice, and then decides _fuck it_ and practically pulls Yuta on top of him so he can kiss him more.

He’ll be damned if he ever forgets how this feels.

Yuta eventually manages to pull away for air, lips red and eyes a little dazed but filled with so much fondness Sicheng’s heart throbs. Grinning, Yuta presses one last long kiss to his lips before resting their temples together and taking Sicheng’s hand in his.

“I see you missed me,” Yuta hums, idly running his thumb along the edges of the wrist cast.

Sicheng pulls him even closer until Yuta’s practically sitting on his lap. “Really, huh? What gave it away?”

Yuta stills in his ministrations. Delicately, he laces their fingers together the best he can with the cast in the way and says, “Oh, nothing. Just a hunch.”

“If you say so.”

It’s just as Jongdae said: everyone’s scared, and that fear never goes away. Sicheng? He’s fucking terrified down to his core with no real end in sight, but maybe that’s not something to be so pressed about. Because somehow, he doesn’t feel quite so afraid when the best thing that’s ever happened to him leans against him and holds their hands between them.

Yuta’s not quite enough to make those dark feelings go away entirely, but he certainly helps him navigate his way through life. And maybe—just maybe—that’s all Sicheng really needs from him.

Quietly, Sicheng shifts so their temples are pressed together and he can see their intertwined hands better. Whispers, “I meant what I said, by the way. When I was high. You know.”

“I know,” Yuta’s lips curl upwards.

_You’re still here._

_Thank you for not giving up on me._

_Thank you for always loving me._

Sicheng taps his uninjured foot impatiently. “Where the hell are they?” He grouses, checking his phone for God knows how many times by this point. “The plane landed an hour ago; what’s taking them so long?”

“Customs?” Yuta guesses. He runs a hand through his hair, contemplates, “Or maybe baggage claim is taking a while? You know how crowded airports get in the summer.”

Scowling, Sicheng irritably crosses his arms and glowers at the arrivals gate, willing his four idiots to finally show their faces. “I swear to god if they don’t show up after all the work I put into my fucking sign I’ll actually skin them alive.”

Gingerly, Yuta pries open the folded poster he’d helped Sicheng make the night before (read: Yuta actually had to do all the work because Sicheng’s dominant hand is still crippled and he can’t do shit with his left) and peeks at its contents. “Are you sure you want me to hold this?” He checks.

Something in Yuta’s tone suggests that he’s not so much worried about whether Sicheng’s okay with the sign, but more that he himself doesn’t really want to hold it up for the entire airport to see.

Sicheng just smirks. _Good._

“Of course you have to,” he teases, momentarily forgetting about how long his dumb friends are taking as he bumps his shoulder against Yuta’s. Explains, “Every time I went home, they were always waiting for me at the airport with the most embarrassing posters—I literally wanted to kill them every time. Now I can finally get my revenge.”

“You mean _I’m_ getting your revenge for you because you’re too crippled to stand properly and hold something at the same time?”

“I knew I found myself a smart one,” Sicheng proudly states, rewarding his boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek.

Yuta bumps him right back. “I guess that’s all I’m good for,” he retorts.

 _Just one of many things, actually._ “You finally figured that out?”

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Yuta chastises.

Sicheng opens his mouth with a sharp counter ready (“Why don’t you watch my mouth for me?”) when suddenly, the automatic doors at the arrival gate slide open and four familiar figures slip through with masks concealing the bottom halves of their faces and luggage dragging behind their heels.

“Oh my god,” he breathes and, without thinking, hits Yuta’s arm with his cast. “Oh my god they’re here—hyung! Hold up the poster _now_!”

Dutifully, Yuta unfolds the comically large poster and holds it above his head. “I’ll have you know that this is beyond embarrassing but I’m doing it anyway because I love you,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Sicheng snarks in return.

Eagerly, he waves both arms in the air and nearly smacks Yuta in the face with his cast. “Hold the sign up higher,” Sicheng orders, frowning when his friends keep turning their heads around without noticing them.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Yuta laments, but plays his role of the patient boyfriend anyway and raises the poster for all to see.

A few seconds later, the figure leading the pack—Kun, obviously—briefly glances their way, continues searching, then does a double take and stiffens. Kun’s face is mostly obscured by his mask and hat, but his eyes widened to twice their usual size betray his mortification and utter shock.

Sicheng smirks. _Excellent._

Since moving to Korea, he’s been back to China a total of four or five times. He hasn’t made the trip in about a year now, but every time he’d shuffle through customs and make his way to the pick up gate, he’d immediately be greeted by raucous cheering, whistling, and screams of his name. And once he’d locate the source of the chaos, he’d be hit in the face with blown up cardboard cutouts of himself, obnoxiously bright neon posters with his baby pictures messily tacked on (where the hell did these idiots even find those, Sicheng still has no clue), and cheesy drama quotes painted in red about how much they missed him.

Obviously he doesn’t have the manpower they do, but what he and Yuta lack in numbers they make up for in vengeance. Because, unbeknownst to his friends, Sicheng has secretly kept this one picture of the time they got completely wasted on Guanheng’s twentieth birthday and broke into their friend Yuqi’s makeup stash. Long story short, they attacked each other in their intoxicated hazes and no one left unscathed. Sicheng had been the least drunk, and in his fuzzy but not completely bleary state managed to snap an incriminating photo of his friends with their scribbled-over, flamboyantly clown-like faces.

And now, all these years later, he convinced Yuta to blow up the picture as large as possible and wave it in the air in the midst of a crowded airport. Nothing like sweet, sweet revenge to mark an overdue reunion.

“Motherfucker,” is the first thing Kun greets him with, ears tinted pink in his flustered state.

“That’s cold, Sicheng-ge. Just pure cold,” Dejun agrees, covering his face in shame.

Sicheng sneers mockingly. “About time you got a taste of your own medicine,” he retorts.

“Touché,” Dejun sighs at the same time Guanheng mournfully remarks, “I’m never pissing Sicheng-ge off again.”

Sicheng spares a glance at Yuta. Only now does he realize that there’s no way for Yuta to communicate with his friends since Yuta only knows a few words of Chinese and the others know even less Korean. If Yuta’s bothered by the rapid fire Mandarin, though, he doesn’t show it. Rather, he seems more than content with simply listening and watching the interactions with an amused expression. He catches Sicheng’s eyes on him and smiles, poster forgotten as he curls an arm around Sicheng’s waist to let him lean on him—and thank god he does, because it’s not easy balancing with a cast on one leg.

Dejun’s eagle eyes immediately zero in on the small action. “Ooh,” he whistles, a wolfish grin crawling up his face. “So _this_ is the famous Yuta. I see.”

Guanheng doesn’t even blink as he karate chops the top of Dejun’s head. “Stop hitting on other peoples’ boyfriends,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

“Stop hitting on people in general when we all know you can’t score anyone,” Kun scornfully adds. He tugs his hat off and shakes out his flattened hair, offers Yuta a tired smile and holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Kun. Nice to finally meet you.”

Yuta blinks, then returns Kun’s smile with one of his own and clasps his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Kun,” he replies in horribly pronounced yet terribly endearing Mandarin that makes Sicheng’s feel warm from head to toe.

“I really did try to teach him, I swear,” Sicheng jokes, pressing his side against Yuta’s. “But it’s not like I’ve actually learned any Japanese from him, so we’re even.”

Guanheng beams and blurts out something that Sicheng can’t for the life of him make out. Yuta stifles back a laugh as he responds in lightning fast Japanese, to which Guanheng blanches and takes a step back. Awkwardly, he laughs and admits, “Yeah, I have no clue what just happened. I guess my anime knowledge doesn’t do me any favors with an actual Japanese person.”

“Dumbass,” Kun deadpans.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Sicheng pokes Yuta in the ribs. _What did you say?_

 _Oh, nothing you have to worry about,_ Yuta pokes him back.

“Sicheng-ge?” A quiet, listless voice speaks up. For the first time, Sicheng notices Yangyang from where he practically hides behind Kun, peering over with concerned eyes and pointing at Sicheng’s arm. “What happened to your wrist? And, er, your foot?”

_Oh. So that’s what I forget to tell them._

Defensively, Sicheng tugs the sleeve of his jacket over the white cast. “It’s nothing,” he protests, aiming for flippant but knowing he’s failed miserably once he’s met with four pairs of alarmed eyes. Hurriedly, he blurts, “Really, I’m fine! I just fell off a roof a month back and it sucked at first but I’m getting these casts off soon! Broken bones don’t take as long as you’d think to heal and—”

Kun silences him by holding a hand in the air. “Hold the fuck up—so you’re telling us you fell off a roof and broke two bones and didn’t tell us?” He demands, the hurt evident in his voice.

 _Shit._ “Come on, it’s not like I was actively trying to hide it from you! There was just a lot going on and I forget, okay?” Sicheng pleads. Unconsciously, he grips Yuta’s sleeve so tightly his fingers turn numb. Yuta obviously doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, but he protectively readjusts his hold on Sicheng’s waist.

Winter must have come early, because there’s no other explanation for the way Kun’s visage frosts over and his eyes pierce into Sicheng’s like icicles. A bitter laugh escapes his lips as he sarcastically remarks, “A simple text was too much? I see how it is.”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Dejun and Guanheng nervously avert their gazes and fidget with their suitcases, neither knowing what they could possibly say and quite frankly, Sicheng can’t blame them. There’s not much he fears in life, but a pissed, eerily calm Kun definitely tops the list. Something about the sheer disappointment painted all over his face coupled with the scalding coldness in his eyes violently twists Sicheng’s insides and constricts his chest until he can hardly breathe and _I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up._

Yuta shifts his arm up to Sicheng’s shoulder. “Should we head back now?” He suggests, a note of urgency in his tone.

Sicheng concentrates on the warmth of Yuta’s arm draped over him, willing away the coldness as best he can. “Yeah,” he swallows, chest loosening just enough for his breathing to steady. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Guanheng nudges Kun. “C’mon ge,” he mutters insistently. “I don’t know about you but I’m pretty tired, so let’s just get a good night’s sleep and we can talk about, er, whatever tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that what we always say about Sicheng?” Kun drawls bitterly, each word stabbing Sicheng like a knife.

“Look, we know you’re upset, but—” Dejun starts, only to be cut off almost immediately.

“But what?” Kun snaps. “Don’t act like you’re not annoyed either—how many times has he hidden shit from us since he left? How can you be so calm right now?”

“Do you want me to do something?” Yuta whispers, teeth grazing the tip of Sicheng’s pointed ear.

Sicheng just shakes his head. “There’s nothing you can do,” he reminds miserably. What could Yuta, who doesn’t share a common language with Kun, possibly do? And besides, it’s not like Sicheng doesn’t deserve everything being thrown at him right now—he _is_ a terrible friend and he _should_ have told them and it’s the first time he’s seen his friends in over a year but somehow, he felt closer when there was an ocean separating them and _he fucked up._

“Ge, just shut the fuck up already.”

Kun whips his head around. “ _What_ did you just say to me?”

Yangyang boldly lifts his chin. “You heard me, Kun-ge,” he replies coolly, arms crossed over his chest and stance resolute. “We’re supposed to be here on a fun trip and you’re already ruining it by picking a fight with Sicheng-ge and making him feel like shit even though he invited us here. Get off your high horse already and just accept that maybe you’re not the center of everyone’s universe.”

Is this really Yangyang? The Liu Yangyang Sicheng knows always smiled at his older friends, always offered words of support even when he was going through rough times himself. In fact, the first time Sicheng met him was during fourth year, when he was stressed out of his mind and holed up in the library amongst a leering stack of books. He’d been just about ready to knock the pile over and give up when a bar of chocolate suddenly materialized next to his laptop.

“Hi,” a boy with bangs that covered his eyes and a youthful grin waved. He couldn’t have been any older than eighteen or maybe nineteen—a freshman for sure, and a brave one at that to dare approach a sleep-deprived, raccoon-eyed senior during midterms season.

Without waiting for a response, the boy quickly said, “I don’t want to bother you any more than I already have, but you look like you’re really going through it more than anyone else here and I like to snack on sweets when I’m stressed so here you go!” He gestures to the chocolate. “Okay, bye now. Good luck with your test!”

Dumbfounded, all Sicheng could do was watch as the freshman pranced back to his own table. Never mind the fact that Sicheng wasn’t the biggest chocolate fan and he knows literally nothing about this kid, that was, without a doubt, the best thing that’s happened to him all week and precisely what he needed to slap some sense back into himself and hit the books again.

The midterm wasn’t too bad in the end, and one day, a few weeks later, Sicheng had been getting coffee with the recently graduated Kun when he ran into the doe-eyed freshman again. This time, he didn’t let the kid escape without a name and a promise of treating him to a meal as a token of his thanks, and just like that, he’d adopted another lost child.

The Yangyang now, though, who stares so defiantly at Kun and just uttered such spiteful words, is a far cry from the cheerful freshman Sicheng met six years ago.

_Oh, Yangyang. What’s happened to you?_

Regardless of the change, Sicheng refuses to remain passive while his friends fight about something he created. He does his best to stand on both feet and loudly states, “Guanheng, Dejun, Yangyang—you three head back with Yuta first. I need to talk to Kun-ge.”

Dejun’s eyes flicker from Sicheng to Kun to Yangyang and then back to Sicheng. “You sure?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yes,” Sicheng confirms, pushing the youngest three towards his boyfriend. “We’ll be fine; just go for now.”

Yuta doesn’t need a translation to get the message. He locks eyes with Sicheng and gives his shoulder one last squeeze, checks, “You want us to wait for you?”

“No,” he declines. “We’ll just catch a cab. I’ll see you back home.”

He can feel Yangyang’s heavy gaze on him as Yuta leads them out, but Sicheng’s got his sights set on the still bitterly cold Kun and the frosty set to his mouth.

“What,” Sicheng begins the second Yuta and the boys are out of earshot. “The _fuck_ was that about, ge?”

Kun doesn’t say anything, just rolls his suitcase over to him and starts walking towards the exit. Sicheng nearly shout a scathing comment about how some people have no consideration for the injured, when he realizes that that’s exactly why Kun gave him his suitcase. Hastily, Sicheng grabs the handle with his good hand and rolls it as a crutch of sorts to walk faster, still trailing behind Kun’s quick pace by several steps.

Undeterred, Sicheng snaps, “You can’t just humiliate me like that in front of our friends and my boyfriend and expect to be let off the hook like that! Who the fuck do you even think you are anyway?”

Kun spits out a dark, mirthless laugh. “I don’t know, Sicheng—I thought I was your friend, but I must not be that important since you forgot about me so quickly. You don’t tell me anything, Sicheng—and I know that you’re not obligated to but I don’t know, I’d really appreciate it if you at least tell me when things like you breaking two goddamn bones happens!”

“Well I’m sorry I was a bit preoccupied and just forgot!”

“How many times do you have to forgot until you admit that maybe you just don’t care anymore?”

Sicheng flinches so violently his cast-clad foot collides with the suitcase and he would’ve fallen to the floor had Kun not caught his arm by reflex. But when he looks Kun in the face with a thank you on the tip of tongue, the words vanish as he takes in Kun’s hardened stare and honestly? He’s had enough. He’s had just about enough of this bullshit.

What right did Kun have to treat him like shit? What made him so much better? What kind of friend does that?

Sicheng’s not perfect; not by a long shot. He knows he should have communicated better with just about everyone—with Yuta, with Taeil and Sooyoung, with his friends in China—but at some point, there’s no use in dwelling on the mistakes he made in the past. What matters is that now that he knows he should have done better, he’s actively worked on it and made efforts to talk and reach out instead of shoving all his bad thoughts into a filling cabinet in the back of his mind. He knows, and because he knows he’s been doing better.

Which is precisely why he no longer wants to act passive.

A foul taste spreads through his mouth. “That’s not fair and you know it,” Sicheng accuses. “You’re acting like I have some sinister conspiracy about keeping you out of my life and that I hate you or something. How could you possibly think of me like that when I’m trying to reach out even though I’m in a different country and have my own life to figure out? I could’ve cut all contact the second I left but I’ve been trying my best to stay in touch with you all because you’re my friends and I care about you too much to let you go!”

“Did you really think nothing would change once I left? That I’d still run to you whenever I had a problem? That you’d still be the only one I talked to? Because that’s _bullshit_ , ge, and not to mention selfish. What, did you want me to be lonely and have no one to talk to here? That you’d be the only important person in my life?”

“You and Guanheng and Yangyang and Dejun are some of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I love all of you to death. But guess what? I have people here like that, too. I have friends who are there to slap sense into me and let me stay with them when I’m going through a rough time and offer me advice even when I’m too afraid to ask for it and actually apologize when they recognize that they’ve treated me like shit and then we can still laugh about it because we realize that we’re all just a bunch of fools. So if you ever wonder why I turn to them instead of you, maybe it’s not just because they’re here but because they don’t expect the same unrealistic things out of me that you do!”

Catharsis courses through his veins, bringing with it a feeling of strange, elated euphoria at the stricken expression on Kun’s face. Kun opens his mouth but no words spill out as all he can do is stare at Sicheng, searching for a comeback that won’t ever be put to words.

He knows.

Sicheng releases the suitcase and limps towards the sliding doors of the exit. Says, “You mean a lot to me, ge. But I think you have some things to reconsider. Do that first before you talk to me again.”

Oddly, once the heat of the July Seoul air embraces his face, a hollowness starts gnawing away at a certain spot inside his ribcage.

“Make sure you don’t forget to Bcc Shin-ssi and Kwon-ssi; Chanyeol-hyung needs them present for the signing. Oh, and please add the next company gala to his and Jongdae-hyung’s calendars. Also check to see if Kim Junsu from the fourth floor is still available for the meeting on Thursday.”

“Done, done, and done!” Lucas proudly proclaims, hitting the enter key with a flourish. “Already took care of the calendars yesterday, Kim said everything’s all good, and I just sent the email now. We’re golden, Sicheng-ge.”

Usually Lucas’s toothy smile never fails to cheer him up, but Sicheng’s head is throbbing after a night of tossing and turning to no avail. Sighing, he rests his chin on his hand and half-heartedly mumbles, “Great. Thanks, Xuxi. You sure learn fast. Soon you’ll be taking over my job. Ha, ha, ha.”

Usually Lucas is also just oblivious or just cheerful enough to not mind Sicheng’s sarcasm, but today he prods him in the shoulder with the eraser of a pencil. “You okay, ge?” He inquires curiously.

 _Fucking fantastic. I just fought with one of my closest friends and I couldn’t sleep because he was just one bedroom away, but other than that I’m goddamn peachy._ “Could be better,” Sicheng grunts. Changes the subject to, “How were Dejun and Guanheng? Hopefully they didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Lucas beams. “They were cool! It’s been a while since I last got a chance to talk to people in Cantonese so it was a lot of fun. And they wouldn’t stop talking about you, so naturally I told them some funny work stories. Hope you don’t mind.”

 _You little shits_. “Nah, it’s fine.”

Since Sicheng and Yuta only have one spare bedroom and it wouldn’t feel right to force people on the couch, Yuta dropped off Dejun and Guanheng with Mark and Lucas so the 1999 kids could hang out together. Poor Mark probably got flustered with so much Cantonese flying through the apartment and Sicheng has a sneaking suspicion that Dejun probably hit on him at one point, but Lucas seems like he had a good time so it must have worked out well.

Kun and Yangyang, on the other hand, had to share the guest room, and between their little spat, the tangible tension between Kun and Sicheng, and Yuta’s guilt at not being able to help, the night didn’t exactly go as Sicheng originally envisioned.

Aren’t they supposed to be happy now that they’re finally back together again? Why did things have to turn out this way? Is Sicheng just that cursed?

The four friends were supposed to go sightseeing while Sicheng and Yuta were at work, but who knows if they even left the apartment when the hostility is so strong. Sicheng planned on taking them all out to some of his favorite landmarks and restaurants later, but the prospect doesn’t seem all that inviting at the moment.

With a groan, he excuses himself to the break room to grab a much-needed cup of coffee. Kun didn’t speak a word to him after their conversation in the airport, and Sicheng’s honestly grateful because he doesn’t know what he would’ve said in response if Kun did. Because of course he still treasures his friendship with Kun— _of course_ he does, but sometimes…

Sometimes it’s about recognizing when things start to go bad, and then figuring out what to do next before they can get even worse.

As he waits for his coffee to brew, Sicheng pulls out his phone and languidly opens his email. Just the usual calendar reminders and email chains from other Taeng&Co secretaries, nothing out of the norm. Right as he brings his cup to his lips, however, the app refreshes and a new email pops up.

_From: Lucas Wong_

_Subject: HYUCK I PULLED THREE ALL NIGHTERS IN A ROW PREPPING ALL OF THIS PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR BLESSING I NEED IT PLEASE LET ME BE WITH MY BABY LION I’M LITERALLY BEGGING YOU_

_10000wordsonwhyilovemark.pdf_

_proposalplan.ppt_

_Classic Lucas_ , Sicheng rolls his eyes and swallows a mouthful of piping hot coffee. When will that kid learn to be more careful of sending messages to the wrong recipient? Always check before pressing send, duh. What if Lucas had accidentally sent these—Sicheng skims over the document names again— _10000wordsonwhyilovemark.pdf_ and _proposalplan.ppt_ to like, a major business partner or something? How embarrassing would that be? Sicheng would _never_ —

 _Wait, hold on_.

Sicheng squints at his phone to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, because did he really just read that right?

_Proposal?_

The coffee flies out of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm like fairly sure that South Korea is very strict on opioids and the likelihood of someone getting prescribed Vicodin is very small, but we're rolling with it anyway. Fun fact: I took one Vicodin my oral surgeon prescribed me after I got my wisdom teeth out and I got knocked out so hard and was still loopy when I woke up. Fun times.
> 
> The last tidbit at the end was inspired by one of the many headcanons my pal whovie and I talk about. To quote a tweet she sent me: a moment of silence for all the AUs that will never see the light of day outside DMs. Amen.
> 
> We're nearing the end! Thank you for sticking with me for so long :)


	9. all's well that ends well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This finale is long overdue but it's over 25k and a real monster so I hope it's worth the wait.

“Ow ow ow ow!” Lucas whines, attempting to dig his heels into the carpet but to no avail as Sicheng resolutely drags him by the elbow to the men’s bathroom.

Once the door is shut behind them, Sicheng shoves Lucas to the sinks and brandishes his phone like a sword. “Literally what the _fuck_ ,” he demands, shoving his phone up close and personal in Lucas’s face. “Does this mean?”

“Huh?” Lucas squints at the text on the screen. Realization dawns on him approximately five seconds later as his jaw slackens in surprise. “Ohhh shoot, I must’ve sent that to you instead of Donghyuck. Sorry about that, hyung—I probably typed ‘Dong’ and clicked on the first name that showed up. My bad, my bad.”

Sicheng’s eye twitches. “How are you so casual about the fact that you just emailed a _ten thousand word essay_ and a _powerpoint about your proposal plan_ to the wrong person? Oh, and the fact that you’re about to propose in the first place— _literally what the fuck, Xuxi?_ ”

Because Lucas is what, twenty-five? And Mark not even yet? Sure they’ve been together for almost six years, but as far as Sicheng remembers, they’ve spent the majority of their relationship long distance and Lucas only just moved to Korea less than a year ago—so just _how_? How could these _kids_ —because that’s what they really are—possibly be ready for marriage and children and responsibilities and all the other things that settling down entails?

In short: What the actual fuck.

Unperturbed, Lucas shrugs and leans against the sink, posture slack and relaxed. “I mean, I know you probably think it’s a big mistake and I’m too young to know better, blah blah blah,” he lifts and lowers a shoulder again, carefree as can be. “And maybe we are, but I don’t think it’s a mistake, ge.”

Sicheng furrows his brow. “How can you be so sure?” He argues, unable to wrap his head around the fact that his goofy, wacky, clumsy, cheerful to a fault, and a million other adjectives for _too young_ protégé could be so confident about such a life-changing decision.

Hell, Sicheng is a little over a year older than Lucas, and he’s shown on multiple occasions that he’s obviously not so confident (see: the entire fight with Yuta, how he shut his close friends out, the way he’s currently handling things with Kun by not handling them at all, et cetera et cetera) or capable of handling his life. How is Lucas so bold? How is he so _brave_?

More importantly, where can Sicheng find a shot of that courage?

An uncharacteristic bashfulness washes over Lucas’s figure as he ducks his head to the ugly bathroom tile, a small smile visible on his lips. Gone is the cheeky, slightly irresponsible, and overgrown boy who waltzed into the team back in January—Lucas is a _man_ , and it suddenly strikes Sicheng that he’s always been one; it just took Sicheng a while to look past all of Lucas’s childish sides to recognize the adult in him.

“Yeah, you definitely think I’m crazy,” Lucas hums, voice holding no irritation but instead a sort of mature amusement. “I thought I was at first, too. When I called Mark’s parents asking for their blessing, I almost hoped they’d say no and that we’re too young just so I’d have someone to knock some sense into me. But then they said yes and it was like, _well shit!_ ”

 _Well shit, indeed._ “So you’re like, not afraid of all the bad shit that can happen next? That your relationship isn’t going to completely crumble?” Sicheng presses, and he’s knows he’s being harsh and probably a bit cruel, but he just can’t shake off the feeling that this is something he wants— _needs_ —to know.

Lucas laughs, the sound making Sicheng jump as it reverberates around the cold bathroom. “What do you mean, ge—I’ve already thought of all the worst case scenarios! He could say no, or it might take ages for the wedding to actually happen, or maybe we’d break up or get divorced—but that’s not the point!”

“That’s not?” Sicheng blinks, baffled by the juxtaposition of Lucas’s awful sounding possibilities and perfectly cheerful disposition.

“Of course it’s not!” Lucas waves his enormous hands in the air and nearly smacks the grimy mirror. “The point is that I’m taking a risk and it’s all worth it because I love him! Because Mark is always worth it!”

The shine in his eyes is so earnest and pure and bright, and yes Lucas will always be that clumsy manchild in Sicheng’s eyes but what matters the most is that he’s _happy_. Sicheng’s never been good with showing his feelings, but Lucas has always been nothing but open and willing to show his love, and there’s a certain beauty in that fact that knocks the breath out of Sicheng’s lungs.

It’s not the uncertainty that matters, but the daringness to take risks.

For the first time, he thinks he finally really gets it.

A grin worms its way onto his lips. “Okay then, Xuxi,” Sicheng assents, reaching up to clap Lucas on the shoulder. _You’re still a crazy kid, but I believe in you._ “Just try not to fuck it up, hmm?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Lucas salutes cheekily.

 _Kids these days sure are something._ Sicheng shakes his head, still unable to completely grasp the fact that the next team wedding would most likely be Lucas and Mark’s of all people. Hopefully no one has the misfortune of walking in on them with one of their dicks in the other’s mouth (don’t think for a second that Sicheng’s forgiven the couple for that unsightly incident just yet).

Suddenly, he remembers what started this whole conversation in the first place. Frowning, Sicheng tilts his head back so he can look Lucas in the eye and curiously asks, “By the way, why did you have to write an essay and make a powerpoint?”

The blood drains out of Lucas’s face in the blink of an eye. Lucas claps a hand over his mouth in horror, cries out, “Oh _fuck_ —Donghyuck is gonna kill me!”

 _Understandable_. “Who’s this Donghyuck anyway?” Sicheng presses further. “Like, what was with that subject title? Why do you need his approval? Is he like, Mark’s brother or something?”

If Lucas heard him, he certainly doesn’t show it. Instead, Lucas sinks to his knees on the bathroom floor—gross; who knows when it last got cleaned—and grabs fistfuls of his hair in despair. “I’m dead, I’m so fucking dead. Oh my god, I’m gonna die without getting the chance to kiss Markie one last time and I’ll never marry him and he’ll be sad because I’m dead but then he’ll move on and find someone better and then—”

“Whoa there,” Sicheng cuts in, not really in the mood to listen to Lucas rant. _Who taught him to overthink this much? Pfft, couldn’t be me…_ Awkwardly, he pats—more like forcefully taps—the top of Lucas’s head, and consolingly says, “You’re not gonna die, Xuxi. Once again, who is this Donghyuck and why are you so afraid of him?”

Lucas peeks up at Sicheng through his hands. “Mark’s best friend,” he explains miserably. “And let me tell you: asking Mark’s parents for their blessing? Piece of cake. But asking Hyuck? Ha…ha…ha…”

Well if that mournful laugh is anything to go by, this Donghyuck fellow must be a real piece of work. “Come on,” Sicheng tries to comfort him anyway. “I’m sure he’s not that bad. I mean, anyone can tell how much you and Mark care about each other, so surely Mark’s best friend would be cool with you. Right?”

Lucas is the spitting image of a kicked puppy as he pouts his thick lips and dejectedly shakes his head. Sorrowfully, he hides behind his hands again and laments, “He laughed in my face and told me I had to write a four thousand word essay on why I love Mark and make a detailed presentation about my proposal plan. I’ve sent him stuff like six times, but he always says no and increases the word count by another thousand. I’m running out of options, ge!”

Scratch a piece of work, this Donghyuck sounds like a fucking nightmare. That, or he’s just been joking this whole time but Lucas is either incredibly oblivious or incredibly stupid. Sicheng figures there’s a fifty-fifty chance on that one.

Still, it’s rather depressing to see Lucas look so distressed over not getting Mark’s best friend’s blessing—although Sicheng suspects this Donghyuck most likely wouldn’t actually say no—so Sicheng gives consoling the young man another shot as he pats his head again, a little more forcefully this time.

“You’ll be fine,” he promises, stretching his lips into what he hopes comes off as an encouraging grin and not a creepy smile. “Donghyuck will give you permission eventually, and then Mark is definitely going to say yes,” _because he’s fucking whipped for you and you’d best stay together forever after I had the displeasure of witnessing him with your dick in his mouth_ , “so just chill, Xuxi. You got this.”

Lucas sniffles. “Thanks, Sicheng-ge,” he mumbles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Mmhmm,” Sicheng awkwardly sticks his thumb in the air. _Why am I of all people giving love advice?_ “And I don’t know shit about like, proposals and that stuff, but—”

_Hoe don’t do it, don’t say anything you’re about to regret, ABORT ABORT ABORT!!!_

“—I guess I could like, help out when the time comes and everything. Yeah. I’m down for that.” _A fucking plus, dumbass._

Well, judging by the reinvigorated shine to Lucas’s eyes and dopey smile, maybe Sicheng didn’t make a mistake in getting involved. Go figure.

As long as Lucas is happy, after all.

“You’ll be fine, kid,” Sicheng adds quietly, suddenly not quite able to meet Lucas’s beaming expression. “Despite how I initially reacted, I’m actually very happy for you that you want to do this. Good for you.” _For being brave enough to take the next step, that is._

He can’t see Lucas’s face, but he can hear the grateful smile when Lucas says, “Thanks, Sicheng-ge. That really means a lot, and you’re totally gonna be my best man.”

 _Say what now._ “O-oh,” Sicheng flushes, fighting the urge to fan his rapidly pinking face. _Goddammit kid, why do you have to make me feel things_. “Uh, thanks, Xuxi. I’m honored, really.”

Never mind the fact that Mark hasn’t said yes (yet) and Lucas still has to get approval from the fiery best friend and Sicheng doesn’t know the first thing about being a best man; it’ll all work out in the end. Definitely.

Without warning, the door to a bathroom stall swings open. “What’s this I hear?” An unmistakably loud voice echoes throughout the dingy bathroom. “Young Lucas is about to _propose_?”

Sicheng leaps a foot in the air. “ _Hyung_!” He scowls, clutching his erratic heart and glaring daggers at the pesky assistant manager who, for some odd reason, thought it would be best to embellish his dramatic interjection by standing on top of the toilet seat (does he not realize how gross that is? Other people sit on that thing!). Now that Sicheng thinks about it though, why _wouldn’t_ Jongdae happen to have been eavesdropping the entire time? Fucking classic.

Unbothered, Jongdae hops to the floor and saunters over, draping his arms around Sicheng’s and Lucas’s shoulders (also gross, because he definitely didn’t wash his hands).

As if he can read Sicheng’s mind, Jongdae rolls his eye and flicks his ear. “I wasn’t actually using the bathroom, Winky. Jeno was scared earlier because there was a spider on his desk so I caught it, and he begged me to let it out outside instead of killing it. So I promised him I wouldn’t, which is why I promptly came here to flush the thing down the toilet.”

Sicheng’s temples prick with irritation. _Winky? Disgusting._ “So you lied to the kid?” He summarizes in a deadpan.

“Semantics, semantics!” Jongdae flippantly waves a hand.

“Hyung, I don’t think you know what that means—”

“Anyway!” Jongdae exclaims cheerfully, whirling on his heel to face Lucas. Even more mischief than usual glimmers in his eyes as he cranes his neck up at the giant and slyly says, “So you’re having trouble with the best friend, huh? Don’t worry, if I could survive the icy wrath of Song Qian, you can do anything!”

Sicheng sighs. “You realize that that doesn’t mean anything to him because he doesn’t know who you’re talking about,” he points out.

As expected, Jongdae ignores him in favor of crooking his finger to signal Lucas to come closer. “Don’t worry about a thing, kid. If it’s the proposal plan you’re having trouble with then you’ve come to right person!”

“He didn’t come to you! You just happened to be here!”

“Really?” Lucas’s face lights up. “What was yours like, hyung? Did she love it? Was it super romantic?”

Sicheng resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. “Why would anyone ever trust Jongdae-hyung of all people for advice,” he complaind to deaf ears.

“So it was a little under six years ago, right? I was in Beijing at the time working for a friend when Sunyoung called and said she was pregnant, and then I was like oh shit, I have to go back to Seoul ASAP! So after dealing with the work stuff first, I hopped on the next plane back and proposed to her at the airport because it was something I’d been wanting to do for a while and now that we were having a kid together it seemed like the perfect timing.”

Lucas eagerly leans forward in anticipation. “Oooh, I see! What did she say?”

Jongdae’s smile falters slightly. “Um, she punched me in the arm and told me that I’d better try that again when my hair didn’t look like I’d just been asleep on a plane. But the important part is that she did say yes!”

Sicheng raises a brow. “That’s a terrible story and a terrible proposal, hyung,”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t need to rub it in, brat.”

Lucas whisks a pen out of his pocket and starts scribbling on his arm in messy Chinese characters. “So make sure my hair looks good, got it,” he recites solemnly. “Any other words of wisdom, hyung?”

“I no longer want to be your best man,” Sicheng decides.

“Honestly, I’m not that surprised,” Yuta remarks, voice raised in order to be heard over the sound of the beef being cooked. “They’ve been together long enough and obviously like each other an awful lot, so it was bound to happen anytime now.”

Sicheng pauses from chopping carrots. “Really? You didn’t think they’re too young or anything?”

Yuta pokes him in the side with the end of a wooden spoon. “They’re not much younger than you, Sichengie,” he points out amusedly. “Sure it’s a bit early, but I’d say they’re definitely old enough to get married. Besides, despite how they may act, they’re twenty-five and not fifteen.”

“That’s being generous; Xuxi acts thirteen at most,” Sicheng quips, to which Yuta pokes him again for his sass. “But yeah, you have a point. I’m happy for them, but it was just a big surprise. I guess it never occurred to me that they’d be ready for the next step and all. If anything I thought Johnny and Ten would be next.”

The beef is a nice light brown now, so Yuta flicks off the stove and nimbly uses his chopsticks to transport the meat to a plate. “Johnny and Ten?” He snorts disbelievingly. “They haven’t even been together a year! I thought it would be Jeno and Jaemin.”

“Like they’ve been together long enough, either,” Sicheng retorts.

“Yeah, but you know how whipped they are for each other. I bet Jeno’s already got his entire proposal figured out and everything.”

“Please, he had that ready before they even started dating.”

“I thought that much was implied,” Yuta hums. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can you dice some mushrooms too? And the asparagus after that?”

Sicheng mimes jabbing the knife at him with his good hand. “Yes, your highness.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into that. Maybe tonight we could—”

“I will actually stab you if you finish that sentence.”

“Love you, too.”

“Mmm,” he grumbles, grabbing the bowl of mushrooms anyway and getting to work. “The things I let you get away with, really. Count yourself lucky that I’m such a nice person, because otherwise I’d have kicked your ass by now and—”

He doesn’t quite get a chance to finish his casual threat; not when Yuta suddenly leans over and silences him with a kiss that’s only meant to be a peck but leaves Sicheng wanting more, and he’s never had good impulse control so he drops his knife in favor of gripping Yuta’s collar and tugging him back.

Yuta’s laugh, Sicheng muses, molds rather nicely against his lips. “I don’t think either of us are getting away from each other that easily,” Yuta comments against his mouth.

 _You’d have to kill me first._ “I wouldn’t be so sure about that—unless you help a crippled person with all these vegetables, that is.”

“Who’s ‘your highness’ now?” Yuta grouses without any bite. Still, he pulls open a drawer and takes out another knife and cutting board. Cheekily echoes, “Count yourself lucky that I’m such a nice person.”

 _I know I’m lucky_. “If you say so.”

Since Sicheng and Yuta have had to work, Sicheng’s friends took it upon themselves to make their own itineraries and go around Seoul by themselves these past few days. Most days, Sicheng makes breakfast for Kun and Yangyang while they’re still asleep and comes home in the afternoon to drying dishes and a quick note of what they’re up to, then doesn’t see them until it’s almost time for bed. From what he knows, Mark and Lucas drop off Dejun and Guanheng on their way to work and the four friends have mastered the art of translation apps and navigating the subway system as they parade around Seoul.

It’s not exactly ideal or what Sicheng imagined this visit to be like, but there’s not much to be done about the matter. Sicheng and Yuta have jobs, and Kun and the others are responsible enough to keep themselves safe. It’s fine.

No one mentions any of the blatant elephants in the room. Whether out of fear or awkwardness, there hasn’t been any bringing up of Yangyang’s firing, Sicheng’s broken bones, or the palpable tension between Sicheng and Kun. Hell, they’ve all only been in the same room maybe five times so far, so it’s not like there’s exactly been the opportunity to talk about anything. It doesn’t help that Yuta doesn’t share a common language with Sicheng’s friends, so when the six of them do get a chance to be together, there’s always the awkwardness that comes with Sicheng having to rapidly translate even though he does have a friend who understands some Korean, but oh yeah _he and Kun are still on terrible terms._

Maybe _terrible terms_ is a bit of an exaggeration, since Sicheng can hardly say they’re acting terrible to each other when they aren’t even acting like anything to each other at all. Kun always offers him a quick greeting when he gets back in the evening and sometimes they’ll run into each other in the hall or something, but those instances are rather scarce for two people who are staying in the same apartment.

It’s just…what’s Sicheng supposed to say in a situation like this? When Kun humiliated him in front of their friends and Yuta and made Sicheng feel like shit even though it’s meant to be a happy visit that was pretty uncalled for, yes, but Sicheng is also well aware of his own contribution to the problem. Breaking two bones isn’t exactly minor news, and neither was living separately from his boyfriend for a month. Logically, Sicheng knows that Kun never intended to be pushy and demand to know every last detail about his life, but at the same time, Kun’s reaction wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Deep down though, Sicheng knows where the real root of the problem lies, and it’s not just because they’re both terrible friends or whatever: it’s the distance. Sure they have the group chat and modern technology makes it easy to keep in contact, but distance, along with time, will always be a bitch. A few years ago, Sicheng’s first person to turn to when he had something he needed to get off his chest would have been Kun or Dejun or Guanheng or Yangyang; now, he finds himself gravitating towards Yuta and Sooyoung and Taeil and Ten and hell, even Doyoung. And it’s not like Sicheng necessarily considers them better friends than his ones from home, but they’re just _here_ , which makes all the difference. They’re here in Seoul and see him in person every day, whereas Kun and the others are in another country entirely.

That’s the thing with distance: no matter how hard Sicheng and his friends try or how well they think they’re managing with the ocean between them, distance always ends up catching up to them. People are coming and going and drifting and returning as they please, and there’s not much that can be done about that. Sicheng doesn’t _want_ to drift, but maybe, just maybe, there are some things in life that are inevitable cold, harsh truths.

Still, that’s not to say that the truth doesn’t hurt like a bitch.

A pair of gentle hands wrap around his. “I think,” Yuta hums, plucking the knife out of Sicheng’s good hand and delicately gripping his bad one, “you should just sit down and let me finish cooking.”

Startled, Sicheng shakes his head and stares down at the cutting board. Oh, right. That’s what they’re supposed to be doing. Cooking. Right. “Sorry,” he apologizes, sheepishly shifting his weight from side to side. “I got a little distracted. Overthinking as usual, ha ha ha…”

Yuta sinks his teeth into his lower lip. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks as evenly as possible, leading Sicheng to a seat at the counter.

 _Not really._ “I should, right?” He replies weakly, letting out a self-deprecating laugh.

“There’s nothing you _should_ do,” Yuta clicks his tongue. He gives Sicheng’s hands one last reassuring squeeze before bustling back over to the cutting board, says, “You know I’m not about to force you into talking about anything you’re not comfortable with. But if you _want_ someone to help you or just listen, then I’m always here.”’

Something about the gentle patience in Yuta’s tone forces Sicheng to choke back tears. Because of course Yuta would still be so caring and considerate even after the drama they’ve just escaped from; of course he would understand that boundaries are hard to break down and it takes time to really do and be better. Yuta doesn’t so much push as he does nudge, and he never pries.

And even though Sicheng very much doesn’t want to talk about, well, _anything_ to do with his friends right now, he knows that the right thing—the responsible thing—to do is to at least face his problems instead of bottling them up. If he can’t find it within himself to confront things head on, then the least he can do is seek help.

With a sigh, he slumps forward in his chair and props his chin on his casted hand. “I’m not sure where Kun and I stand right now,” he admits at last. “Like, he’s been one of my closest friends since I was eighteen and I still care about him a lot, but I don’t know how things are going to be after some of the stuff we said to each other.”

Yuta glances up from cutting asparagus. “You never did tell me what exactly happened after I left with the kids,” he remarks, a note of curiosity in his voice. “How bad was it?”

Sicheng grimaces. World-ending? Definitely not. Friendship destroyed? Possibly, but hopefully not. Still, their argument wasn’t exactly one that can be smoothed over with a quick apology, so in conclusion: “Pretty awful,” he groans.

Out of pity, Yuta slides over the jar of sugar cubes. Sicheng kind of feels like a horse when he sadly grabs a handful and starts munching, but it does make him feel a bit better so horse be damned.

“It sounds to me,” Yuta begins carefully, turning his back so he can turn on the stove. “It sounds to me like you both care about each other so much that you get more annoyed by the other’s flaws. Like we all know you’re a bit skittish—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—don’t give me that sass, you know it’s true,” Yuta sticks his tongue out. “But anyway. Yeah, you’re pretty unpredictable, which is why at this point I’ve just come to accept that you’re going to do some things I question but that’s just you being you. I get that there’s been a lot going on ever since the retreat so it makes sense that it slipped your mind to tell your friends about the whole accident, but also imagine how they must have felt to finally see you again after a whole year and you’ve got two different casts on.”

Sicheng crunches down on a sugar cube so forcefully his teeth clack in pain. “I really did just forget,” he mutters miserably, unable to stop the wave of guilt from crashing over. “I never meant to exclude them like that, I just forgot.”

Yuta hums in sympathy. “See, I get that. You’re not some kind of evil mastermind with a conspiracy to cut people out of your life; you’ve just got a lot going on. You’ve got your own personal things, and then, despite that whole mantra you used to go by about not getting involved if something doesn’t concern you, you’re actually quite invested in your friends’ lives too. And when you’re already so swamped with the things happening around you, it’s only natural that you lose track of the things and people that aren’t immediately available.”

“I think Kun is aware of that, too. Obviously I don’t know him as well as you do and I haven’t exactly been able to speak to him in person, but I’d say he’s long since accepted you for who you are. I mean, he’s had to if he’s been your friend for almost ten years. But that’s probably why he worries so much too, and he probably comes off as smothering when in reality he’s just frustrated that he can’t help you as much as he used to. And I think you know that, too.”

 _Of course I know; how could I not_? “But it’s just,” Sicheng weakly flaps his hands around in some uninterpretable gestures. “I get that he wanted things to stay the same—hell, so did I at first. But how are things supposed to be the same when they’re just _not_? I can’t be in Seoul and Shanghai at the same time or turn to both him and Sooyoung first when there’s something on my mind; it’s just not possible. No matter how much we text or talk on the phone, it’s never going to be the same as when I was still there. Is it even healthy to still cling to the way things were like that? To try and fool ourselves into thinking that nothing would change?”

“Weeeeeeell,” Yuta sucks in a breath, eyes thoughtful as his hands move on their own accord and add ingredients to the pan. “You’re definitely right when you say that things can’t be the same, but maybe saying that you’re fooling yourself is a bit too harsh?”

“Like, just look at me,” he gestures vaguely to himself. “I came here before you did, and it only took a year or two for me to completely lose all contact with my high school friends. It wasn’t because they were terrible people or that I met better ones, but them being in Japan and me being here was too much of an obstacle for us. I’m not saying the same is necessarily true for you because we’re considerably different cases, but what I’m trying to say is that sometimes, it’s no one’s fault. My old friends can’t blame me for leaving, and I can’t blame them for choosing people physically closer to them when I did the exact same thing. It sucks because I did have a lot of good memories with those friends, but at the end of the day, we can’t just live in memories.”

“I don’t know if you’re going to end up like me or if you’ll find a way to work things out with your friends, but just remember that drifting is normal, and most of the time we can’t help it. So just…try not to blame yourself or anyone else too much, okay? It’s only going to stress you out more.”

Sicheng’s feet move on autopilot as he hops down from his chair and shuffles over to where Yuta stands at the stove, causing the latter to jump when he loops their arms together. “I’m cooking!” Yuta cries out in alarm, hastily dropping his pan to avoid burning either of them. “Give me a heads up next time, jeez.”

Unbothered, Sicheng knocks their temples together and muses, “What would I do without you?”

Yuta bites back a smile. “Starve, for one thing. Which, by the way, might just happen if you don’t sit back down like a good little boy so I can finish making dinner.”

Sicheng wrinkles his nose. “‘Little boy’?” He parrots back skeptically. “Just yesterday Jaemin called me a hag to my face because I said my back hurt when I stood up.”

“Wow, what a little shit.”

“Mmm. Tell me about it.”

At that moment, the telltale sound of keys being turned in the lock and the bells tied to the door ring through the air, followed by an exasperated shout of, “I _told_ you that man wasn’t homeless, but _nooooo_ you just had to show off how much of a good Samaritan you are and give him money anyway!”

Dejun throws his hands in the air. “He _was_ homeless—didn’t you see his tattered jacket?”

“You mean his tattered jacket over his _Gucci shirt_ —he was a conman, you imbecile!” Guanheng fires back.

“M-maybe some other good Samaritan thought he was cold and gave up his Gucci shirt, you never know!” Dejun desperately defends himself, but judging by the rapidly increasing feebleness to his voice, he’s growing more disillusioned by the second.

Guanheng flares his nostrils. “It’s summer, who gets cold now?”

“Cold blooded things do!”

“Humans are warm-blooded, dumbass!”

“Then maybe he was an alien!”

“Great, so you gave twenty bucks to an alien conman! That makes me feel so much better!”

“I,” Yuta, bless his poor Japanese soul, blinks like a lost puppy, “am incredibly lost.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “I can understand them and I’m lost too,” he deadpans, choosing to tighten his hold on Yuta’s arm and rest his head on Yuta’s shoulder for emotional support—because he’ll need as much of that as he can get if he’s gonna deal with the chaotic ’99 boys’ bullshit.

Guanheng stabs an accusing finger at Dejun. “He just got conned like an amateur tourist!” Guanheng declares, conveniently seeming to forget his own blatantly touristy attire with his bucket hat, sunglasses, camera hanging from his neck, fanny pack, and, oh yeah, the jacket with Chinese characters scribbled all over it.

“Hey, at least I didn’t ask for a lap dance instead of a latte!” Dejun retorts angrily.

“Google Translate failed me!”

“Well you should know better than to trust it, _amateur tourist_!”

Yuta glances at Sicheng from the side. With a sigh, Sicheng translates the exchange into the much abridged and half-hearted version of, “They’re both idiots.”

“Ah. I see,” Yuta nods slowly, looking no less lost than he did five seconds ago.

Ignoring Dejun and Guanheng’s ongoing bickering, Sicheng grumbles, “Now you see why I wanted you to pick up some Mandarin?”

Yuta aims a kick at his shin. “Like you ever learned any Japanese.”

“Touché.”

Dejun’s voice rises to an impressively high octave. “Next time I’m not paying for our couple locks!”

“Well jokes on you because we aren’t even a couple anyway! And fine, go throw all your money at conmen for all I care!”

“Fine! I will!”

“Good for you!”

In unison, the boys cross their arms, let out displeased huffs, and storm off to sit at the dinner table only to start aggressively battling for the same chair at the head of the table.

“Um,” Yuta hesitates again, face completely blank.

“The joys of having a best friend, right?” Sicheng drawls sarcastically.

“You have a very interesting definition of joy.”

The bells chime again as the door opens for a second time. “Are the degenerates still arguing?” Yangyang yawns upon entering.

“Those degenerates are still older than you,” Kun’s dry voice slices through the air. He takes one look at where Dejun sullenly sits on the floor while Guanheng triumphantly gloats in the chair and rolls his eyes. “But I believe the answer to your question is yes, Yang.”

Yangyang mimics Kun’s eye roll. “I can see that for myself, thank you very much,” he grumbles.

Kun stares at him frostily. “What’s with that attitude, kid?” He demands.

“Attitude? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yangyang snippily replies, not even casting Kun a glance as he slides into a seat at the table, leaving his elder to bite his lip in frustration and follow.

Sicheng’s face screws into a grimace. _Well, dinner is just going to be_ lovely _tonight._

 _I got you_ , Yuta offers him a strained smile. Evidently, awkwardness and tension transcends language barriers. How wonderful that on the first and quite possibly last occasion Yuta meets his friends, it just had to be like this.

Dejun and Guanheng aren’t the problem, not by a long shot. They’ve always been rather rowdy together but no matter how much they insult the other, it’s never actually anything serious. Besides, Yuta’s definitely witnessed worse bickering with Ten and Seungwan, so Dejun and Guanheng are small fish to fry.

As for the tense Sicheng-Kun-Yangyang Bermuda triangle…well, there’s really no need to elaborate on that, is there?

Reluctantly, Sicheng disentangles his arm from Yuta’s and casts him a resigned glance. Yuta shoves some side dishes into his hands and gives him a quick peck for good luck, then resumes cooking the vegetables.

“Quit it, boys,” Sicheng hisses as he sets the side dishes down with more force than necessary. He knuckles the tops of Guanheng and Dejun’s head, warns, “You’re scaring my boyfriend—” a lie, because Yuta never really gets scared by anything, but what the idiots don’t know won’t kill them “—so at least try and act your ages, hmm?”

“That’s ageist, ge,” Dejun sniffs, petulantly stuffing his face with cucumbers.

Sicheng resists the very strong urge to give the kid a good whack on the head. “Ageism doesn’t remotely apply what I just said—do you even know what that word means?”

Guanheng jumps in to defend his best friend’s honor. “It means you’re a hag, ge!” He crows, victoriously high-fiving Dejun despite having just been arguing less than ten seconds ago.

 _Fucking Gen Z kids_. “If I’m a hag, then what exactly is Kun-ge?” Sicheng retorts, momentarily forgetting that he and Kun aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.

Guanheng’s either oblivious as hell or has zero sense of self-preservation—or both, if Sicheng’s being real—because that’s the only way to explain why he gleefully states, “An even bigger hag!” In response to Sicheng’s rhetorical question.

“Say that again and I’ll fucking end you, Huang Guanheng,” Kun shoots back, tone completely emotionless as he stabs his knife into the butter and spreads it over his slice of bread.

Yangyang mutters something noncommittal under his breath, but judging by the way Kun’s fingers tense around his butter knife, Sicheng guesses it had to do with taking the hag joke one step too far. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood again, Sicheng points at an innocent Yuta carrying their dinner and loudly exclaims, “If anything, _he’s_ the hag—he’s turning thirty next year!”

Yuta pauses, startled to suddenly have five pairs of eyes on him. “I don’t even know what you just said,” he speaks slowly, carefully setting the main dishes on the table. “But I already know it wasn’t good, so I’m just gonna exile myself while you all call me old or whatever.”

“You understood that?” Sicheng cries out in shock. Yuta can’t even remember how to count in Mandarin, how could he possibly understand?

“Educated guess,” Yuta corrects, lightly tapping Sicheng’s forehead with a teasing smirk. “But I really do have to run, actually. Already made plans with Ten and Seungwan anyway, remember?”

“Huh,” Sicheng does a double take, racking his mind and remembering that oh yeah, Yuta _did_ mention having Friday night dinner plans with his troublemaking squad. “Wait,” he frowns, “then why did you cook for us? Now I feel bad for making you do everything when you don’t even get to eat any of it!”

Easygoing as ever, Yuta taps Sicheng on the forehead again and placates him with a peck. “Because I felt like taking pity on my poor crippled boyfriend; now stop complaining and go enjoy dinner with your _young_ friends.”

Quietly, almost inaudibly, he brings his lips to Sicheng’s ear and adds, “And maybe now would be a good time to have a conversation with them? Just a suggestion, but do it whenever you’re ready, okay?”

Sicheng can feel his ears burning and the stares of his friends boring into him and Yuta. “I’ll try,” he promises weakly.

Yuta smiles encouragingly and presses one last kiss to his mouth. “I’m proud of you. Good luck,” he murmurs once he pulls away, then waves goodbye to the others and heads for the entrance.

Dazed, Sicheng needs to shake his head a few times before he remembers that he’s not alone. Pink floods his cheeks as he nervously turns to his friends, the realization that they’ve never seen him kiss anyone so openly dawning on him. College Sicheng wasn’t very comfortable with PDA, and post-college Sicheng has had approximately zero boyfriends and kept his libido sated by the occasional hookup every six or so months. Now that he thinks about it, has he ever kept a man around as long as he’s been with Yuta? Definitely not, and it goes without saying that he’s never had such a strong romantic attachment to someone before, so this side of him must be shocking for his friends to witness.

Sure enough, Dejun and Guanheng wear matching gaping, slack-jawed expressions as they gawk wordlessly at him. Yangyang’s chopsticks are frozen in midair as he too stares with his mouth-parted in surprise. Kun is the only one who doesn’t seem all that surprised as he sits with perfect posture and calmly takes a bite of bread, but it’s his reaction that unsettles Sicheng the most.

“He, um, already had dinner plans with his friends,” Sicheng hastily explains, fanning his face in an effort to will the incessant pinkness away. He clears his throat, yelps, “So, dinner!”

Like that, the spell is broken. Guanheng’s face stretches into an expression so devious it should be illegal and bellows, “Whipped!” At the top of his lungs.

How irritated would Yuta be if Sicheng were to hurl his favorite serving plate at Guanheng and not only break the porcelain, but splatter beef stir fry all over the walls and floor? Roughly how many apology kisses would it take for Yuta to forgive him? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?

Well, however many it takes is a risk Sicheng’s just gonna have to take because yes he’s whipped, but _still_!

“Before you attempt murder,” Dejun smoothly cuts in just as Sicheng’s grip around the plate tightens. “I’d just like to remind you that you’re currently outnumbered at four to one, so go ahead and try us, ge.”

“Please leave me out of your quarrels,” Kun politely interjects in between bites of rice.

“Same,” Yangyang mumbles disinterestedly.

Sicheng huffs, and if he slams the plate a bit too aggressively right next to Guanheng’s hands, that’s no one’s business. “I’m not whipped,” he argues, the denial sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

Dejun snorts in disbelief. “Please, ge. All your years of pretending not to care have finally come back to bite you in the ass because you, my good sir, aren’t just whipped—you’re _incredibly_ whipped. I’ve never seen you act so chummy with anyone, period.”

“He’s my boyfriend, of course we’re close,” Sicheng grumbles as he seats himself between Yangyang and Guanheng.

“I think you might the most whipped person alive,” Dejun solemnly prescribes.

Guanheng swallows a mouthful of vegetables and vehemently shakes his head. “Nah, have you not seen Yukhei and his boyfriend these past few days? They’re so whipped for each other it’s disgusting—Mark literally sits on his lap all the time!”

Privately, Sicheng would have to agree to disagree. Mark and Lucas are whipped as hell, sure, but they’re only the tip of the iceberg. Take Taeyong and Jaehyun, for one thing—Sicheng may not have been in the right state of mind during the ride back from the retreat, but from what he’s heard from Johnny and Ten, that intimidatingly beautiful couple still act all giddy around each other even after being together for so long. And then there’s Taeil and Doyoung, whom Sicheng has, fortunately or unfortunately, had the pleasure of spending an awful lot of time with recently. Ever since Doyoung was admitted to the squad, he’s joined them on every outing and Sicheng’s actually grown to like him quite a lot (plus, how could he forget that rousing speech from Doyoung after saving Sicheng’s life not once, but twice? What a man). Still, that doesn’t mean Sicheng’s happy with seeing him and Taeil act all disgustingly domestic with each other. They aren’t PDA-y by any means and don’t like kissing in front of others, but their eyes betray everything. Sooyoung supports them wholeheartedly and Sicheng does too, but he could really do with less third wheeling.

As Dejun and Guanheng continue debating over which couple truly is the most whipped, Sicheng turns to the eerily unresponsive Yangyang. “So! How are you liking Seoul?” Sicheng hastily prompts, reaching for just about any topic switch.

Yangyang shrugs. “It’s nice,” he admits shortly. For a moment Sicheng fears that that’s all he’ll say, but then Yangyang swallows his mouthful of food and reaches over to scoop more asparagus into his bowl, says, “We went up Namsan Tower like you suggested and found your couple locks with Yuta, actually. I didn’t realize you were that sappy, ge.”

Sicheng nearly chokes at the mention of the locks. Back when he and Yuta were still a new couple, they’d gone up the tower on one of their first dates and Yuta had convinced him to write cute messages for each other on couple locks. Sicheng had been reluctant at first because they’d barely been together for a month and wouldn’t it be awkward if they broke up? But he’d gone along with it anyway, and admittedly it was pretty heartwarming to see their locks amogst the sea of others. And hey, they’re still together to this day, so perhaps he was worried for nothing.

“How’d you even find ours when there are like, thousands?” He demands incredulously. Either the kids were just incredibly eagle-eyed and lucky or they spent an awful lot of time searching, but knowing Dejun and Guanheng, it was probably the latter.

Kun snorts. “It only took them an hour and a few confused looks from the workers,” he reveals, confirming Sicheng’s deepest suspicions.

“But it was totally worth it,” Guanheng jumps in. “Never thought you had so much cheese in you, so the more we know.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sicheng gripes. Dammit, how exactly is he supposed to be the tough, no nonsense older brother now? Curse Nakamoto Yuta for bringing out this suppressed side of him.

Turning to the troublesome duo, Sicheng narrows his eyes and asks, “How’s Xuxi been treating you? Not too, er, how should I put this…”

“In our faces?” Dejun supplies helpfully with a solemn expression. “Loud? Speaking four languages even though he’s not really fluent in any of them? Nauseatingly domestic with his small boyfriend? Cracking jokes that are only half funny but he keeps laughing at them anyway? Clumsy as hell?”

Sicheng facepalms. “Yep, sounds about right.”

“Oh he’s been great,” Dejun cheerfully reports.

Guanheng bobs his head in agreement. “Yeah, he’s pretty all over the place but that’s what makes him so great. Still can’t believe he moved to a different country just for his boyfriend—that’s some serious dedication.”

“Mmm, you should’ve seen him when he first started working with us,” Sicheng groans, shuddering at the memories of his protégé’s complete inability to memorize the goddamn phone lines and broken, barely interpretable Korean. “I think I aged ten years because of that kid. At least he’s a fast learner.”

A devious glint shines in Guanheng’s eyes, immediately setting off every red alert in Sicheng’s brain. “Y’know, ge,” Guanheng smirks, leaning closer conspiratorially. “He told us about a certain incident in which you walked in on him in a very, let’s say, _compromising_ position.”

If Sicheng were a bit less on edge and just not the way he is in general, he probably would’ve been able to shrug off Guanheng’s statement because if anything, that story is way more incriminating for Lucas and Mark than it is for him. After all, what kind of person invites a poor soul into their tent, only to fornicate in it the next night when he knew that that poor soul would be returning? Lucas is clearly the problem here, not Sicheng!

And yet…the memory of Mark doing _that_ sears through his mind and evokes a strange sensation in which Sicheng would very much like to burn his eyes out, thank you very much.

“I’m gonna fire that punk,” he swears, wishing nothing but a lifetime of pain for stupid Lucas Wong.

Never did he expect that one innocent statement to be the catalyst for the evening going to hell, but alas.

It starts like this:

Dejun snickers, says, “In that case, maybe Yang can work with you!”

Then:

A pair of chopsticks clatters to the floor as Yangyang’s eyes widen to an unnaturally large size, fingers still curled around invisible utensils.

Followed by:

Silence.

It ends with:

Shakily, Yangyang lifts himself to his feet and, without a word, stalks to his room, slamming the door so hard the hinges shake.

Sicheng squeezes his eyes shut, praying that this is all just some lucid dream and he’ll wake up to a normal, happy dinner. When he opens them, though, he’s faced with the sight of Guanheng with a hand clapped over his mouth in shock, Kun’s darkened demeanor, and Dejun’s stricken, guilty gape.

_God. Fucking. Dammit._

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Dejun whispers in horror, unable to comprehend what just slipped off his tongue.

Sicheng forces himself to take a deep breath, then offers Dejun his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Jun—we know that, and whether any of us like it or not, something was bound to give in the end.”

Still, Dejun hangs his head in shame.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Sicheng all that much that Dejun—and most likely Guanheng as well—already knew about Yangyang’s predicament. Those two have always been the closest to Yangyang, and even if no one explicitly told them, they were probably able to figure things out for themselves. Secrets, as it turns out, can only be kept hidden for so long.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Sicheng announces, wiping his mouth with a napkin and pushing himself up.

Before he can even fully stand up, however, Kun stops him with a single look. “With all due respect,” Kun begins, somewhere between a drawl and a deadpan. “I think it’s better if I go.”

Sicheng furrows his brow. “The last time I checked, the two of you weren’t exactly on great terms.”

Kun’s laugh is short and mirthless. “Yeah, well at least I’ve been around.”

Each word cuts like a knife, sinking into Sicheng’s chest and forcing him back into his seat. _That’s not fair,_ he seethes. _That’s not fucking fair and you know it, Qian Kun._

Calmly, Kun rises and trails after Yangyang, entering the guest room without knocking and shutting the door behind him.

Three or four years ago, if someone were to tell Sicheng that this is what would become of his carefree friend group—one cold as ice, one withdrawn, two guilt-stricken, and one completely, utterly lost—he would have laughed and boldly declared that such a fate was impossible, because how could that ever happen when they were so happy in the current moment?

He should’ve learned a long time ago that it wouldn’t do him any favors to be so naive. Because happiness is a fickle little thing, and it doesn’t take much for it to dart away from between his fingers.

The ocean stretches even further, its once relaxed tide suddenly turbulent.

“How long have you known?” Sicheng questions after what feels like an eternity. He can see that there are only a few ways the rest of this evening is going to go, and unfortunately none of them are painless.

The boys exchange uneasy glances with each other. Guanheng anxiously kneads his hands together, mutters, “Like, almost two months now? Ever since Kun-ge told us you invited us here, actually.”

Dejun nods glumly. “Normally Yang would’ve been all excited to see you again, but he was super reluctant to come at first so we got suspicious. That and the fact that he wasn’t talking about work anymore, so we put two and two together.”

Just as he suspected, the kids are a lot smarter than most people give them credit for. “He wasn’t hiding it from you because he hates you, but you already know that,” Sicheng comments, raising a brow at the end of his statement.

“Of course we do,” Dejun concurs. “But things got awkward because we knew and we knew he didn’t want us to know, but then it also felt like we were lying? So, yeah, it was all just super confusing.”

“No, I get that,” Sicheng sighs, dragging his hands down his face. Maybe Kun was right: he hasn’t been around these past few years, so what does he actually know about anything? What could he possibly say or do to make things better?

Dejun peers at him with a gaze he can’t quite decipher. “You know, ge,” Dejun speaks slowly, like he’s unsure of every word and has to double check before letting any of them make it past his lips. “Kun-ge doesn’t hate you, either. He just misses you a lot.”

A spike of irritation strikes Sicheng in the temple. “Isn’t that obvious?” He laughs harshly. “If he actually hated me, he would’ve already jumped on the first plane back to Shanghai. He’s only acting all cold and whatever because he’s just as much of a fucking tsundere as I am, but the only difference is that he’s too far up his own ass to accept it. Even so, none of that gives him the right to be such a dick to me.”

“Yeah, but,” Guanheng starts, then hesitates. He chews on his lip and tries again with, “I mean, this is probably the flimsiest excuse ever, but isn’t that just how he is? He’s not good with his feelings, and neither are you—maybe you’re both being unnecessarily shitty to each other?”

 _Well, that much is obvious too._ “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s kind of how we’ve always been to each other because we’re both tsunderes,” Sicheng dryly remarks, and he’s only half-joking when he says that.

In truth, he can’t quite remember when exactly he and Kun started speaking to each other in such self-deprecating and sarcastic manners, but he supposes it all started when he got on the plane.

“It’s just,” he sighs, flattening his palms over the surface of the dining table. The food has probably gone cold now, which irks him more than it should because that means Yuta’s kindness has gone unappreciated. “I don’t think either of us really know how to talk to each other anymore, and that’s the worst part. I guess it just got easier to talk to the people here instead, so I neglected him a lot.”

The younger boys exchange knowing glances for the umpteenth time that evening, and Sicheng’s starting to get suspicious. “What?” He raises a brow curiously. “Is there something you know that I don’t?”

His suspicions are all but confirmed when Dejun jumps in his seat. “You’re probably gonna think this sounds super dumb, but,” Dejun nervously looks to Guanheng for confirmation, then continues when he gets a nod. “We all thought you’d be back in like, a year or two. If I’m being real, none of us really believed that you’d stay in Seoul.”

“That was literally my plan all along though?” Sicheng points out, baffled. “You knew from the start that I never intended on moving back to China, so what are you talking about?”

Guanheng shrugs. “Dunno. Just thought that maybe you’d get homesick or realize that you didn’t like it here or something. As bad as this sounds, I actually hoped you would because then you’d come back and we could all be together again.”

“I see.”

If someone were to ask him to make a list of adjectives describing himself, Sicheng wouldn’t even know where to start. Tsundere, cranky, easily irritated, a hopeless cause in general—those are just the tip of the iceberg. But one word he’s never write down would be _sentimental_. Sicheng’s never been the type to get overly attached to places or things—that’s why it’s relatively easy for him to pick up his life in one place and reassemble it in another, whether it be Wenzhou or Shanghai or Seoul. Places are just settings, and things are just, well, _things_. People, however? They’re different.

He doesn’t regret coming to Seoul, not one bit. But it’s impossible to deny just how much he regrets not being able to be with the friends he left back in Shanghai. And he knows that they’ve missed him just as much as he’s missed them, but realizing just how bad it was for them pricks his skin like a thousand paper cuts.

Kun wasn’t the only one hurt. Not even close.

Guanheng must have noticed the guilt contorting Sicheng’s face, because he quickly waves his hands and insists, “But we’re not saying it’s a bad thing that you stayed! I mean, you’ve seemed so happy ever since you got adjusted to life here and you met Yuta and have all these great friends, so how can we hold a grudge against you for being happy?”

“Exactly!” Dejun hastily jumps in. “We support you in everything you do, ge! Kun-ge does too, even if he doesn’t show it and he always thought—err, I mean even if he doesn’t always show it. So please don’t hate him even though he’s been a dick and even if you do then—”

Gently, Sicheng shakes his head and says, “I don’t hate him. Not even close. But this is something the two of us need to work out, so just don’t worry, okay?”

Upon seeing the relief spreading across Dejun and Guanheng’s face, another stab of guilt hits Sicheng in the heart. _I don’t think I could ever hate him, but I also don’t know what’s going to happen next._

“Anyway,” he sighs. “Help me reheat this food. I don’t want Yuta to be sad when he sees you barely ate anything.”

_Moon Taeil: Do me a favor pleeeeeeeeease~_

_Dong Sicheng: I already don’t like where this is going._

_Moon Taeil: Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease my darling Sichengie_

_Dong Sicheng: I’m still in my bed with my very cuddly boyfriend, so you’re gonna have to try harder than that. But fine, what’s up?_

_Moon Taeil: Please come to my place ASAP and bring a throw pillow. Preferably a pretty one that you’re okay with never getting back._

_Dong Sicheng: Why would I just give you a nice pillow for no reason?_

_Moon Taeil: Because I’m your best friend?_

_Dong Sicheng: That’s a lame excuse. And if anything Soo’s my best best friend. You’re like, second best._

_Moon Taeil: I’m going to pretend I didn’t just read that, so you should be thankful and get the fuck over here now._

_Dong Sicheng: Literally why_

_Moon Taeil: Do you WANT me to have Doyoung infect your computer a virus?_

_Dong Sicheng: Jokes on you I have no blackmail against me; I make sure to periodically delete any incriminating files because I KNEW you’d try that against me one day_

_Moon Taeil: Oh? Then I’m sure you know nothing you delete actually STAYS deleted, right? And that my darling Doyo is very, VERY, good at hacking? And that he loves me VERY much?_

_Moon Taeil: Trust me, I’m harmless. But if your cringey photos were to fall into the wrong hands…perhaps the hands of a certain Mr. Kim…_

_Dong Sicheng: That’s downright illegal, hyung._

_Moon Taeil: Like you’d turn me in to the cops._

_Dong Sicheng: Point taken. So what kind of pillow do you want again?_

Sooyoung waves from where she stands leaning against the wall outside Taeil’s. “Fancy meeting you here,” she greets. Smoothly, she hands him a cup of coffee and lifts her own, says, “I figured he’d drag you into his bullshit too, so I came prepared.”

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sicheng all but moans as he chugs half the cup at once. Curse Moon Taeil and his strict circadian rhythm; only a psycho would willingly get up at seven in the morning on a Saturday. Noticing the duffel bag slung over Sooyoung’s shoulder, he raises a brow, points to his own bag, and asks, “Pillow, too?”

“Close,” Sooyoung unzips her bag to reveal a sea of wool. “He asked for a blanket. I couldn’t get a reason why out of him though, which is fucking classic.”

Sicheng hums, finishing off the rest of his much-needed coffee in one go. “So how long exactly have you been standing outside his apartment instead of like, knocking and going in?”

“Oh, just half an hour. I figured I’d wait for you because I don’t think I can handle whatever bullshit awaits us alone.”

“Mmm, that’s smart. How’ve you been since yesterday?”

“Same old, same old. Been forcing Sungjae to watch this new show with me. How about you?”

“Meh. Shit went down last night.”

“Oh? So same old, same old for you too?”

“Precisely.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, I think I know how to handle it. Thanks, though.”

“Always.”

“Anyway, should we probably go in now? Want me to knock?”

“Please do.”

His knuckles have barely rapped the wood when the door swings open to reveal an unimpressed Taeil. “You’re late,” Taeil scowls, tapping his foot impatiently against his carpet.

“You never specified a time,” Sicheng counters.

“I thought ‘ASAP’ would convey a strong enough sense of urgency.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Sooyoung retorts, already striding into the apartment like she owns the place. “Now will you finally tell us what exactly you dragged us here for? Because I’m a busy woman with things to do, and bringing you a blanket isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

Taeil ushers Sicheng inside. “We all know that your only other plan for the day is to go drinking with Sungjae-ssi and his friends, so don’t act like you have anything better to do.”

“Touché,” she sniffs.

Sicheng kicks off his shoes and pads down the hallway after his friends. “So back to the main point: Why did you ask us to come? And what could you possibly need a pillow and a blanket for?” He inquires, curiosity getting the better of him.

Taeil smirks so devilishly Sicheng takes a step back out of fear. _Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I very much don’t like where this is going. Abort mission._

He’s seriously considering booking it out of there, but as he takes another tentative step back, something soft brushes against his exposed ankle and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Trembling, he fearfully ducks his head to find…a pair of round yellow eyes blinking up at him?

A mewl cuts through the air.

“You adopted a fucking cat?” Sooyoung demands incredulously, gazing down at the small animal that’s currently rubbing its head against Sicheng’s leg.

Taeil huffs in displeasure. “False: I found a stray wandering the streets and just couldn’t bear to let her fend for herself. So, I took her in.”

Gingerly, Sicheng nudges the cat—or is it a kitten, given how small it is?—away from him with his foot and glares at Taeil. “And this is what was so urgent? Your brand new pet? This was what made you call us up at seven in the goddamn morning?”

“I just wanted to introduce my new daughter to my best friends, sue me!” Taeil childishly bites back.

_Daughter? Fucking hell._

Sooyoung crosses her arms. “You have to realize how bad of an idea this is, right? She probably hasn’t had any shots, so what if she scratches you and, I don’t know, it turns out she’s been carrying rabies or something?” Sooyoung snaps, watching in thinly veiled trepidation as the kitten mewls and rolls all over the blanket she brought. “I mean, she is cute and all, but you really should’ve thought this through a little more, Taeil-oppa. And are you sure you can even handle her when I know for a fact you can barely manage yourself? Have you taken her to a vet yet? Oh my god, what if she actually has rabies and—”

Taeil is the picture of tranquility as he easily plucks the kitten from the blanket and promptly shoves the bundle of fur into Sooyoung’s hands. “Look how cute she is,” he coos, making kissy faces at the kitten ( _ew_ ).

Reluctantly, Sooyoung glances down at the kitten and it takes all of three seconds (Sicheng makes sure to count because he fucking knew this would happen) for the tense lines in her face to smooth over and her eyes to soften. “Wait, she really is adorable,” Sooyoung marvels, instinctively running her finger over the little kitten’s ears. The kitten seems to like that as its mewling intensifies and she rubs her head against Sooyoung’s hand, eager for more.

“Exactly,” Taeil states smugly, the spitting image of the world’s proudest father as he watches Sooyoung fawn over the kitten.

“Weak,” Sicheng scoffs under his breath.

Automatically, Sooyoung replies with a typical “Fuck off,” although with noticeably less bite than usual. Sicheng suspects it has to do with the baby in her hands.

“Not afraid of rabies anymore, huh?” He jeers.

“Sicheng,” she responds without sparing a glance his way.

“What?”

“I hate you.”

 _Predictable much?_ “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Children,” Taeil rolls his eyes ( _hag_ , Sicheng thinks vindictively). Calmly, he pries the kitten out of Sooyoung’s grip and turns to Sicheng with a smirk. “You’re next, buddy.”

“Oh, no,” Sicheng insists, backing up and finding himself quite literally against a wall as Taeil approaches with the kitten outstretched. It’s not that he hates cats—far from it, in fact—but is Taeil really about to trust him of all people to hold a tiny little kitten? The guy who tripped and rolled down a hill and fell off a roof all in the span of a few hours, responsible enough to watch over a living, breathing life? Sicheng thinks the fuck _not_.

As if he can sense Sicheng’s thoughts, Taeil rolls his eyes even harder this time and all but forces the kitten into Sicheng’s (one good and one bad) hands. “Stop being such a pussy, Sicheng. You’re not going to kill her,” he chastises, the patience of a thousand suns (or would it be moons in this particular case?) in his voice as he makes it very clear that, like it or not, Sicheng is about to bond with the damn cat.

With no other choice, Sicheng exhales and lowers his chin so he can properly examine the kitten in his arms. At first he’d thought that she was just a plain black cat, but upon closer inspection he notices the patch of white on her chest and white feet that make her look as if she’s wearing socks and okay, that’s actually pretty cute. The shape of her yellow eyes remind him of a certain vertically challenged salesman, and the curl of her mouth makes him think of everyone’s favorite wacky team dad. The kitten’s jaw stretches open in a yawn, revealing tiny little teeth and a pink tongue. Hesitantly, Sicheng awkwardly strokes the top of her head, which she seems to like as she responds by planting a white paw on his chest.

_Oh, fucking hell._

Taeil’s cackling breaks the moment, startling Sicheng so badly he nearly drops the precious kitten. “I knew it—I fucking knew it!” Taeil crows, nearly bent over in half what with how hard he laughs. He smacks Sooyoung on the arm, shouts, “He’s whipped, your honor! Our darling tsundere is whipped!”

“Not so afraid of rabies, huh?” Sooyoung parrots back mockingly, and if she weren’t one of his best friends (and more than capable of fighting back _and_ winning) Sicheng would’ve slapped that shit-eating grin off her face.

 _Applications for new friends, now open!_ “She’s cute,” Sicheng grumbles, thrusting the kitten back into Taeil’s arms.

Taeil showers the top of the cat’s head with kisses, states, “I knew you could do it, Doraemoon.”

 _The fuck did I just hear?_ “‘ _Doraemoon’_?” Sicheng demands in disgust.

Even Sooyoung seems less than impressed by the name. “Did you just name her after an animated blue robot cat with annoying voice?” She points out flatly.

“How _dare_ you,” Taeil huffs, affronted. He protectively cuddles the kitten—ahem, _Doraemoon_ —to his chest, sniffs, and explains, “First of all, Doraemon is an icon and I will not stand for any slander. And to answer your question, no I did not simply name my daughter after the character, but after me and Doyoung as well.”

Sicheng scowls. “That doesn’t make any sense, hyung. Literally what the fuck are you talking about—”

And then it hits him.

Doraemoon.

Do-rae-moon.

Do.

Rae.

Moon.

Kim _Do_ young. _Moon_ Taeil.

“—oh my fucking god,” Sicheng blanches in horror.

Sooyoung looks a bit green around the gills herself despite the amused grin gracing her lips. “Well, at least their first child happened to be a cat and not a human,” she remarks, unable to suppress a snicker.

“That is absolutely disgusting,” Sicheng deadpans. “Positively sickening. I’d throw up but even that wouldn’t sum up how revolting your choices are.”

“You’re just jealous there’s no iconic mascot that can incorporate both yours and Yuta’s names,” Taeil shoots back.

Sicheng throws his good hand in the air out of exasperation. “And why on earth would I want that?”

“Why _wouldn’t_ you want that?”

“Because I’m normal!”

“Alright boys, let’s simmer down, simmer down,” Sooyoung lazily flaps her hand at them. At some point, she’d migrated to Taeil’s plush couch and attacked his bowl of caramels, already having accumulated a sizable pile of wrappers on her lap. “Can’t we all just agree that neither of you are normal and neither of you deserve me?”

Sicheng rounds on her. “And how exactly do those two facts correlate with other?”

“I don’t hear any denial!”

Before Sicheng can shoot another counter her way the sound of a lock turning and the door opening captures all of their attention. A mop of black hair pokes through first, followed by two figures carrying large, crate-like carriers.

“Hey, Moonie,” Doyoung greets, pocketing his keys—he already has keys to Taeil’s place?—and ruffling Taeil’s hair as he walks past him on his way to the kitchen. “Mind if I make some coffee?” He asks as he’s already busy selecting packets to put in the espresso machine.

“Only if you make me some, too,” Taeil hums in return.

“Ooh, coffee?” An unmistakably cutesy—yet laced with thinly veiled snark—voice perks up. Jaemin bustles in with two carriers, hair mussed like he just rolled out of bed and eyes puffy from sleepiness. “Make a cup for me too, please!”

“You just had one before we left!” Jeno chides, clinging to Jaemin’s elbow with his hand that’s not occupied with a carrier.

Jaemin shoots him a fond glare. “Yeah, well I had to carry _two_ cats even though they’re _yours_ , so now I’m tired again!”

As sweet as he is, Jeno does have one secret power of manipulation that he knows works every time without fail: his pout. Sicheng mentally counts to three, and right on cue, Jeno juts out his lower lip and sadly widens his eyes, curling his fingers even tighter around his beloved’s arm.

“I’m just worried about your health,” Jeno mumbles, pout intensifying as he nuzzles his forehead against Jaemin’s hair.

Jaemin, however, is either completely heartless or numb to Jeno’s antics. “I told you that guilt-tripping me doesn’t work anymore,” Jaemin complains, yet he only tosses one last longing look at the espresso machine before sighing and dragging Jeno to the living room. “Whatever. We’re totally stopping by Starbucks on the way back, though.”

_Another victory for Jeno in the bag._

Sooyoung arches a perfect brow. “You dragged Jaemin and Jeno into this too?”

“Of course I did,” Taeil responds, shuffling back into the living room with Doraemoon in one hand—she’s so tiny that just one of Taeil’s small hands is enough to hold her—and a cup of coffee in the other. “Jeno’s the only crazy cat lady I know and it’s not my fault his sidekick follows him everywhere.”

Jeno snaps his head up. “Hey! I’m not a crazy cat lady!” He protests indignantly.

“Stop lying to yourself, Jen,” Jaemin rolls his eyes. With a heaving breath, he sets down the two carriers and gestures for Jeno to do the same. “Anyway, we brought them like you asked, hyung.”

Sicheng peers through the latticework of one of the carriers to find himself face to face with a familiar pair of feline eyes. Memories of waking up suffocating with a face full of fur wash over him as he yelps, “You made them bring Bongsik?”

“And Seol,” Jaemin deadpans, pointing to the other crate he’d set down, then to the one at Jeno’s feet. “And Nal.”

The pieces must click together for Sooyoung at the same rate they do for Sicheng, because at the exact same moment, they turn to Taeil and flatly state, “You organized a play date.”

“And?” Taeil coolly counters. “What about it?”

Sooyoung pops one last caramel in her mouth before crumpling all her empty wrappers into her fist. “Hey Sicheng,” she casually speaks up. “Wanna ditch and get brunch? It’s on me today.”

“Gladly,” Sicheng agrees. He fishes his car keys out of his pocket, says, “How about that new place around the corner? I heard they make some great pancakes.”

“I’m so down,” Sooyoung grins.

Taeil glowers at them. “You two are the worst best friends ever,” he accuses. “That’s it, I’ve decided: Jeno and Jaemin are godparents instead of you.”

“Like we wanted to be godparents anyway!” Sicheng retorts at the same time Jeno excitedly claps his hands and cheers, “Jaem, we did it!”

Jaemin, however, is a bit preoccupied as he clumsily grabs at Nal only for the cat to slink out of his arms. “Jeno, control your cat before he knocks something over!”

Sooyoung pinches the bridge of her nose. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”

“Right as always,” Sicheng nods, already making his way to the door.

As he ties his laces and Sooyoung shoves her feet back into her heels, Doyoung pokes his head around the corner and offers them a sheepish grimace. “Sorry about any inconvenience Taeil-hyung may have caused,” he apologizes with a small bow of his head. “You know how he gets a bit eccentric when he’s excited, and he’s been especially goofy lately ever since he got the cat.”

“Oh trust us, we know,” Sooyoung grins, covering her mouth with her hand. “He’s just happy about your _daughter_ ,” she adds in a singsong voice.

Doyoung winces. “Please don’t call her that. That’s too weird.”

Sicheng keeps his head down as he ties his shoes, hiding his smile. “Good luck ever getting him to let go of you now, hyung—him naming her Doraemoon is a sign he’s never letting you out of his sight.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Doyoung laughs, something akin to fondness flashing through his gaze as he watches Taeil coo over Doraemoon.

Taeil, much like Sicheng, isn’t one to put too much meaning into places or things, and Sicheng would argue that Taeil’s even less inclined to become overly attached to people either. Don’t get him wrong, Taeil’s a great friend, but Sicheng’s always had a feeling that Taeil just floats through life without being overly concerned by, well, _anything._ The mere fact that he’s so seamlessly integrated Doyoung into his life and even named his stray kitten after them speaks volumes about how he feels, and although Sicheng will always find him a bit odd, he’s just happy that Taeil’s happy.

Doyoung was right; maybe soulmates or _the one_ aren’t real, but sometimes there’s just that one person whom when you finally meet them, you just know. Maybe, just maybe, fate is real.

 _You’re a good man, Kim Doyoung._ “I know you just got here, but join us for brunch?” Sicheng suggests, twirling his keys around his index finger. “It’s on Soo, after all.”

“Motherfucker,” Sooyoung hisses, stabbing him with her pointy-toed shoe. Then, with an angelic smile, she adds, “We’d love for you to join, Dons. Save you from the crazy cat ladies, after all.”

“Did you just say you’re offering to save people?” Jaemin materializes out of thin air. He’s already in the midst of putting his shoes on as he dryly comments, “If we leave now they won’t even notice that we’re gone. ”

“My poor wallet,” Sooyoung bemoans.

Sicheng moved off campus when he was a senior, but he took pity on his poor, dorm-bound underclassmen and gave them all copies of his apartment key _strictly for emergencies, ahem._ He really should have seen it coming when it became a normal, everyday occurrence to find Dejun lying on his couch, Guanheng eating his leftovers, or Yangyang taking a cat nap on his bed. Kun had shaken his head, accusing Sicheng of spoiling the kids too much, and it wasn’t like Sicheng could have fought back because even he admitted that he did.

He also really should have seen it coming that one day, the pesky triplets would cause more trouble than usual. Sicheng had just stumbled back from a grueling economics exam when he found the three underclassmen huddled in an odd triangle-circle hybrid, staring at him with guilt-ridden eyes.

Immediately, every nerve in his body had been set alight with suspicion. “What on earth have you done now?” He stated rather than asked, already dreading the answer.

“Er,” Guanheng coughed nervously. “Let me preface this by saying that this was all Yangyang’s fault.”

“Let me add that I blame Dejun,” Yangyang solemnly interjected.

Dejun scowled. “And let _me_ say that I hate Guanheng!”

Sicheng dumped his bag to the floor and crossed his arms. “If you don’t tell me what you’ve done in the next ten seconds, I’m getting you all banned from the premises,” he threatened.

“Fine,” Yangyang, ever the good boy, sighed. “So we were, um, pretending to play American football when Dejun-ge tackled Guanheng-ge a little too hard, and then Guanheng-ge stumbled against me and because he’s a fatass—”

“Beg pardon!” Guanheng roared.

“—I fell over and landed on your favorite succulent,” Yangyang finished, pointing to the corner where, true to his word, Sicheng’s succulent that he’s raised the longest has been reduced to a pile of dirt and broken ceramic shards.

Sicheng closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and promptly proceeded to tear them all a new one.

Long story short, the boys learned to never roughhouse on Sicheng’s turf ever again, and they were so terrified that they didn’t set foot in his apartment for a solid month. One of Sicheng’s finer moments, if he does say so himself.

So when he comes home with his belly full from brunch—Sooyoung wheedled her way into getting Sicheng to pay half the bill, because of course she did—to find Dejun, Yangyang, and Guanheng hovering by the door to the balcony, the alarms instantly go off in his mind.

“What’s going on?” Sicheng questions, slowly approaching the boys from behind. “I swear to god, if you killed my aloe I’ll—”

The sight before him knocks the breath out of him.

Due to the language barrier and, well, obvious tensions, Yuta’s barely spoken more than five words to all of the guests combined. Most of their interactions occur in the form of polite smiles or waves, and on the rare occasions that they’re all together, Sicheng acts as the interpreter.

So imagine Sicheng’s surprise when he sees his boyfriend seated on one of the balcony chairs with Kun occupying the chair next to him, lips moving and forming words that Sicheng can’t hear from the other side of the glass.

“What the fuck,” Sicheng utters blankly, the keys in his hands slipping out of his fingers and clattering against the floor.

Now _this_ —this, this _whatever the fuck it is_ —is a sight he never saw coming. Not in a million fucking years.

_Who instigated this? What are they talking about? How are they even talking to each other? How long has this been going on? Why isn’t anyone trying to stop them? Holy shit, someone call the fucking police because there is absolutely zero chance of this ending well. Fuuuu—_

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, jolting him back to reality. Yangyang doesn’t quite smile, but the twist of his lips appears sympathetic and understanding nonetheless as he delicately explains, “They’ve been sitting out there for a couple hours now, just talking into Kun-ge’s phone and passing it back and forth so they can read translations of what the other said. Kinda trippy, actually.”

Now that the initial shock is gone, Sicheng squints to get a better look at what the hell is going on. Kun’s in the middle of saying something while Yuta studies him with knitted brows, clearly unable to understand what the other man’s saying. When he’s finished, Kun taps at his phone screen and hands it over to Yuta, who takes a few moments to read over the translated text before pressing the record button and saying something in response. Judging by how fast his lips are moving, Sicheng guesses Yuta’s reverted to speaking in Japanese, which probably makes more sense because some of the characters are the same as Chinese and—

This entire situation is just _ridiculous_.

Sicheng must have spoken out loud without realizing it, because Dejun snorts and says, “Yeah, you can say that again. We’re just as lost as you are.”

“Wait,” Sicheng frowns. “Yangyang said that they’ve been out there for a couple hours; just how long have you three been snooping?”

Yangyang shrugs. “Since Kun-ge grabbed your boyfriend by the elbow and asked him if they could talk. We’ve been watching them ever since.”

It suddenly strikes Sicheng that this is perhaps the most Yangyang’s contributed to a singular conversation the entire trip, and that realization coupled with the bizarre situation at hand forces him into the nearest armchair, too dazed to fully comprehend everything being thrown at him at once.

_Just one day. Just one normal day in which things actually go my way, that’s all I ask. Please._

The way the three boys are huddled with their faces pressed against the screen door is a bit…inconspicuous, to say the least. “Can’t they see you guys?” Sicheng points out like it’s the most obvious fact in the world (because it _is_ ; Yuta and Kun would have to be blind or incredibly oblivious if they didn’t notice).

“I don’t think they care?” Dejun guesses. To prove his point, he raps his knuckles against the door, emitting a dull sound that neither Yuta nor Kun seem particularly bothered by. “See? They probably don’t mind as long as we can’t hear what they’re saying—which is pretty impressive, by the way. What is this glass, bulletproof?”

“We got it soundproofed a few years back,” Sicheng mutters absentmindedly. “Had these birds that were super loud in the mornings and kept waking us up too early and—and that’s beside the point. Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, stop them?”

Dejun blinks innocently. “Why would we do that, ge? What’s wrong with them talking?”

 _First of all, the fact that they’re even talking in the first place is concerning enough._ “It’s just weird,” Sicheng huffs, burying his face in his hands so none of them can see the dusting of pink across his cheeks.

Who knows what those two could be talking about. Maybe Kun finally decided to unleash the mountains of blackmail he has on Sicheng, and now Yuta’s gonna be so disturbed that he breaks up with him and kicks him to the curb. What if they’re gossiping about just how annoying Sicheng is and are getting a kick out of their shared pain. Holy shit, does he sleeptalk and say incriminating things and now Yuta’s disclosing this vital information? Is that what’s going on?

Yangyang side eyes him with a look that can only be described as judgmental. As if he can read Sicheng’s mind, Yangyang dryly suggests, “Maybe they’re just having a civil conversation because they’re both very close to you and want to get to know each other better.”

 _Oh. Huh_. _Yeah, that would make sense too._ “Shut up.”

Yuta, from the other side of the glass door, shifts his gaze for a moment, briefly locking eyes with Sicheng. Despite the thousands of urgent S.O.S. messages Sicheng tries to convey to him— _are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need help? Do I need to beat you up?_ —Yuta merely quirks up his lips and turns back to Kun, showing the latter something on the phone that elicits a laugh out of both of them.

This is, without a doubt, the oddest exhibit Sicheng’s ever seen.

“Say,” he begins carefully. “What do you guys think of Yuta, anyway?”

The question has been bugging him the entire time—obviously Yuta’s interaction with them is limited because of factors none of them can control, but the kids have to have formed some sorts of opinions on him by now.

Guanheng hums for moment, then says, “He seems pretty cool. A better cook than you are, that’s for sure, which is good because I don’t know how you’d survive otherwise.”

“That’s really not saying much,” Dejun shudders, and Sicheng is indeed petty enough to shoot him a withering glare. Hastily, Dejun adds, “But yeah, he’s cool! Yukhei has nothing but good things to say about him too, and it’s nice to see you be all warm and fuzzy for once in your life.”

“Warm and fuzzy?” Sicheng splutters. He still has some dignity left in him; he’s most certainly _not_ warm and fuzzy of all things

While Dejun and Guanheng mock Sicheng’s baffled face, Yangyang merely tilts his head to the side and quietly admits, “I think he’s good for you, ge.”

Warmth blooms in the pit of his chest. “Really? You think so?” Sicheng squirms, trying and failing to keep the stupid smile off his face.

Guanheng, who usually isn’t exactly observant, has an unsettling knack for picking up on things that he can make fun of his seniors for. He whips a finger at Sicheng and declares, “You’re asking for our approval, aren’t you?”

“Hell no. Why would I need approval from children?” Sicheng scowls, lazily swatting Guanheng’s accusatory finger away.

Slyly, Dejun sidles up to his side and hisses, “You want to marry him, don’t you?”

There it is again, the M word. The word that causes men and women alike to quake in fear and breaks even the strongest of souls. The word that sent even Sooyoung into a frenzy, hiding in the back of Taeil’s car and stuffing her face with stolen cake. The word that Lucas eagerly pursues. The word that, just a few months ago, would have sent Sicheng running.

Now, though? It’s still daunting, that’s for sure, but that’s all it is: a word.

He shoves Dejun away from him, grumbling some incoherent complaint about personal space. Yuta and Kun seem to be wrapping up outside, what with the way Kun pockets his phone and they both start standing up, so in the few seconds he has left to spare, Sicheng studies Yuta’s figure and muses, “I want him around for a very long time, so yeah, I guess I do.”

And then, deciding that he really doesn’t need to know what Yuta and Kun were talking about—at least, he doesn’t need to know right at this moment—he turns on his heel and heads for the kitchen, beckoning his favorite children forth with promises of lunch.

_Park Sooyoung: So how’s that drama of yours going? Resolved things yet?_

_Dong Sicheng: Mmhmm_

_Park Sooyoung: Now what’s THAT supposed to mean?_

_Dong Sicheng: Just that you don’t have to worry :)_

_Park Sooyoung: And by that do you mean I actually don’t have to worry, or is that just what you’re saying because you don’t want me to worry when in fact I should be very worried?_

_Dong Sicheng: Just that you don’t have to worry about me, Soo_

_Park Sooyoung: I see_

_Park Sooyoung: Well then, I’m proud of you, kid._

Unexpectedly, Sicheng gets his answer a lot sooner than he thought he would, and without any of his own prompting on top of that.

The sounds of footsteps outside the door rouse him from sleep early the next morning. Groaning, Sicheng curls into his pile of blankets—Yuta, the poor soul, is left almost completely uncovered thanks to Sicheng’s unconscious habits—and tries to will himself back to sleep. What kind of psycho walks around at this hour? There isn’t even any light peeking through the curtains, which means the sun isn’t up yet so who in their right mind would want to be awake right now?

Suddenly, realization hits him so hard his eyes snap open, fatigue all but forgotten as he clumsily slips out from under Yuta’s arm and tugs the first sweater he can find over his head. Breathless, he dashes out of the bedroom and makes a beeline for the living room, and his heart nearly stops when he finds the room empty.

Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination. Sighing, Sicheng blearily rubs his eyes and turns to go back to bed—only to collide with another body.

“Jesus!” Kun yelps, hand flying to his heart as he reels back in shock.

Sicheng stumbles backward, just barely managing to avoid getting his casted foot caught on the coffee table. “What the fuck, Kun?” He hisses, collapsing down on the couch. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Why are you awake right now anyway—”

Unlike Sicheng, Kun’s not dressed in his pajamas. Instead, he’s clad in jeans and a light jacket, wallet halfway shoved into his back pocket and a black mask dangling from one ear. One hand holds his favorite cap, while the other is curled around the handle of his suitcase.

_Oh._

An ugly, ugly feeling manifests in Sicheng’s throat, curling its black tendrils around his neck and invading his lungs. “So you’re _leaving_?” He barks, and to hell with the fact that it’s way too early in the morning for this and Yuta and Yangyang are still asleep and the walls are thin, because how _dare_ he. How dare Kun waltz in, act the way he has, say the words he’s said, and now try and run out like this. How fucking dare he.

At the very least, Kun has the good graces to appear a bit sheepish. He fiddles with the brim of his cap, unable to meet Sicheng’s furious gaze—and that only fuels Sicheng’s rage even more, because the Qian Kun he knows has never been a coward, but look at him now. How the tables have turned.

“I always meant to leave a bit earlier,” Kun speaks up at last, managing to raise his head just the slightest. His eyes are fixated on some invisible speck of dust on the coffee table, purposefully ignoring Sicheng’s hawk-eyed glare. “I could only get someone else to run my shops for a week, so I told the kids I’d have to go home before them. They understood though, and I’m sure they can handle themselves for another week.”

Sicheng recoils back. “So the others also knew about this? And no one thought to tell me? Or is this something you purposefully hid from me?”

From the way Kun still can’t quite meet his eyes, he already knows the answer.

All the pent up emotions that have been stirring within him—the frustration, the tenseness, the rage, the betrayal, the guilt—since their fight at the airport ignite, threatening to spill from him like a volcano. The temptation to yell and demand for answers is overwhelming, and if his wrist weren’t still busted he would’ve grabbed Kun by the collar and throttled him on the spot. _You’re unfair,_ he’d scream. _You’re so fucking unfair and I hate you._

But Sicheng is tired of having stupid fights that never quite get resolved and only lead to them running in circles around each other, so he exhales and sags against the couch, too exhausted to stand on level ground.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he declares. Wearily, Sicheng presses his fingers to his temples and mutters, “I don’t want you to think I’m purposefully hiding anything from you, but I know I should talk more—but at the same time there are so many things that won’t make sense to you because we’re just not in the same place. Same goes for when I want to keep up with everything happening with you and the kids; of course I want to know, but I’ll just end up lost because I literally can’t understand when I’m not there. I want us to still be the way we were, but then we keep clashing because I’m not good at communicating and you worry too much about me.”

With a heavy gaze that matches his heavy heart, he says, “And most of all, I want things to be the same, but I know that that’s impossible. We can’t just pretend that I’m still there and we’re all together again when it’s so obvious that we’ve drifted. I don’t want to act like everything’s okay when I think we all know some windows have already closed, ge.”

“And I know that a lot of what’s gone down between us has been my fault, because I _am_ a bad friend and maybe I’m just a crappy person in general because you really should have seen some of the shit I put Yuta through this past summer. I know I should have told you about the relationship trouble and the breaking bones stuff, and if I could go back then I would. I really would. Obviously saying that doesn’t excuse the fact that I forgot, but I don’t want you to ever think that I shut you out on purpose or that I haven’t exactly been available because I don’t care about you. I—”

“I hate that you left.”

Sicheng’s breath catches in his throat. “What?” He breathes, not quite sure if he heard that right (he did) and wishing that it was all just some hallucination (it wasn’t).

Kun’s hands ball into fists, squeezing his cap and his suitcase until his knuckles shake from the tension. “I hate that you left,” he repeats, spitting out every word like they’re poison. “I hate that you didn’t want to stay, that you were able to pack up your life and restart somewhere else so easily. I hate that I thought you’d come running back with your tail between your legs after a few months, and how disappointed I was when you told me how much you loved it here. I hate that I resented you for being happy just because I felt left behind. I think I may have hated Yuta for a bit too, because I thought he was the reason you weren’t coming back.”

“That’s really fucking unreasonable and you know it,” Sicheng scowls. “You can’t drag Yuta into this when he’s never done anything to you; that’s a whole new level of childish.”

“I know,” Kun agrees, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “Of course I know that, Sicheng. I had no reason to hate him, but I did anyway because I was too insecure to face reality.”

At long last, Kun raises his chin until his eyes meet Sicheng’s. “I still remember when you were a lost freshman, except you weren’t quite lost—not by a long shot. Sure you were a bit overwhelmed at first because Shanghai is different level from Wenzhou, but you were never _lost_. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but despite some of your more standoffish tendencies, you are deceptively good at adjusting to new things.”

“I think I got so caught up in this fantasy that you needed me to help show you the way, that I didn’t even realize you’d started walking ahead by yourself a long time ago. And when you told me about all your new friends in this new city, and especially about some boy who found his way into your plans, I just felt jealous. I know you’re a bit of a free spirit, so imagine my surprise when I heard you were practically settling down. It just…I don’t know, I was being irrational and thought that me and Yangyang and Guanheng and Dejun weren’t enough for you, so you left to find better people.”

“That’s unfair,” Sicheng counters, pressing his fingers even harder against his temples. “How could you ever believe I would do that? That that’s the kind of person I am? How _could_ you?”

Kun offers him a sad grimace. “I know, I know. I’m not going to deny how ugly jealousy made me, and I think we know that we’ve both done things we haven’t exactly been proud of. Because me being worried about you doesn’t explain why I was passive-aggressive over text, why I snapped at you at the airport, or why I’ve been acting like a little bitch this entire visit. It’s not enough to say I’m sorry, but I really am. I’m sorry, Sicheng.”

Sicheng squeezes his eyes shut. _Too little, too late. Too little, too late. Too little, too late._

“I think,” Kun starts, then pauses for a few counts. Finally, he clears his throat and tries again, says, “I think eventually, life will catch up to us and we won’t be in each others’ lives anymore. And it won’t be because we found better people or because we hate each other, but just because that’s what happens with time. And you know what, Sicheng? I used to be so afraid of that and I still am, but I think I’m okay with it now. I think that no matter what happens, you’ll always be that lost freshman I took under my wing and watched grow, and at the end of the day it’ll only be the happy memories that matter.”

Kun shoves his cap over his head, pulling the brim down until it obscures his gaze. “And I want you to know that even after I’ve been such an ass, I couldn’t be happier for you. I’m so happy you’re doing well and met someone who really gets you and are just enjoying life in general. I still hate that you left, but I’d hate it even more if you’d stayed because I don’t think you would’ve been like this if you hadn’t one day decided to move to Seoul.”

“Thank you for everything, Sicheng, and good luck.”

Dimly, Sicheng’s aware of the receding footsteps and the rolling of wheels as they pass behind him, weaving around the couch and skimming towards the front door. Why, he mulls to himself, does that sound so much like a goodbye—no, like a _farewell._ Why is Kun acting like there’s a ticking time bomb hovering over their heads, just waiting for the seconds to count down to zero and explode along with the past ten years. And maybe there really is one, because like Kun said life and time and distance is going to catch up to them eventually and there’s not much if anything at all they can do to stop that, but here’s the thing:

Who says it has to be today?

“I don’t believe in burning bridges, you know!” Sicheng calls down the hallway, unsteadily rising to his feet and hobbling a few steps closer.

Kun freezes, one hand already on the doorknob. “What?”

Huffing, Sicheng crosses his arms and says, “I’m fine with closing windows, and I think one’s already shut for us. But I don’t believe in burning bridges unless it’s a drastic measure.” _And even though sometimes I wish I could, I don’t think I could ever hate you._

“What are you saying, Sicheng?” Kun tilts his head, something between curiosity and nervousness lining his face.

 _Goddammit, do I really have to spell everything out for you?_ “I’m saying,” he huffs again, then limps forward another step. Catches Kun’s gaze in his and holds on for dear life this time, then proclaims, “Don’t bother messaging me when you get dropped off at the airport or when you’ve boarded, but give me a call once you’re home safe. And then we’ll see what happens next.”

Understanding dawns on Kun’s visage, bringing with it a wave of relief. “I see,” Kun hums, and maybe his lips twitch upwards for a split second or maybe that was just a trick of the light.

_It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. No matter what._

Respectfully, Kun dips his head. “See ya, Sicheng. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You’d better,” Sicheng grunts in return.

Just as Kun’s closing the door behind him, he suddenly pushes it back and pokes his head inside, mischief in his grin.

“Invite me to the wedding.”

Sicheng promptly shoves him out of his apartment and slams the door in his face.

_Dong Sicheng: I know you’re worrying about me anyway, so I just wanted to let you know that it’s all good now, Soo. Well, I don’t know if you can call it good, but it’s resolved at the very least._

_Park Sooyoung: Were you always this goddamn cryptic?_

_Park Sooyoung: But I guess that’s fine. As long as you know what you’re doing._

_Dong Sicheng: I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but thanks for worrying about me so much. It really means a lot._

_Park Sooyoung: What is this, mushy hours? Gross. Who are you and what have you done with the Sicheng I know._

_Park Sooyoung: But you’re welcome anyway. Now I’ll just see myself out as I spend the rest of my morning sobbing, thank you very much._

Despite his best efforts to slip back in without a sound, Yuta’s eyes are already blinking sleepily at him when he slides under the covers.

“Hey,” Yuta croaks, voice mangled by the early morning chill. “Did he already head out?”

Sicheng buries his nose against Yuta’s collarbone. “Mmm. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me you knew, by the way. Traitor.”

He can feel the vibrations of Yuta’s laugh against the top of his head. “Sorry, but he swore me to secrecy. The bro code, y’know?”

“First of all that’s disgusting and I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your lips again, and also seriously? You two aren’t even ‘bros’—not even close. _And_ you really just went all ‘bros over hoes’ to me? _Really_?”

Yuta’s laughter intensifies. “You’re cute, Winko,” he murmurs, lazily kissing the top of Sicheng’s head.

“I really do hate you.”

“Right. Sure you do.”

“Stop doubting me so much. For all you know I could be planning your murder at this very second and no one would ever suspect me.”

“Don’t the police usually look at family and significant others as suspects first?”

“Yeah, but I’m a very good actor.”’

“If you say so.”

Because he’s feeling a bit cheeky, Sicheng cranes his head up and bites—not like a cute nibble, but a proper chomp—down on Yuta’s exposed shoulder, smirking victoriously when he hears a high pitched yelp. “Don’t you dare underestimate me, Nakamoto. It’ll be the last mistake you ever make.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Yuta chuckles, then throws his arm over Sicheng’s frame. “Now go back to sleep. It’s too early to be alive.”

For better or for worse, no one brings up the Kun-sized elephant in the room.

Well, it’s probably only to be expected. Dejun, Guanheng, and Yangyang all already knew a long time ago, and Yuta of all people got advanced notice, too. That left Sicheng as the only one in the dark, but he considers the closure they got to be sufficient enough and the others can probably guess that things are better now, so there’s no awkwardness in the air. All’s well that ends well.

The others are only in Seoul for another week and a half, so Sicheng tries to make the most of the time he has with them. The same day Kun leaves, Sicheng takes them out for lunch and then for a bike ride (that he couldn’t join because of his stupid ankle so he remained content as chaperone) along the Han River. Purely by coincidence, they run into Jeno and Jaemin—literally run into them, because yes, Guanheng really did just lose control of his tandem bicycle with Yangyang and collided with an unsuspecting Jaemin.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, you piece of—Sicheng-hyung?” Jaemin blinks from where he’s sprawled across the pavement, a large scrape running up his elbow.

“Afternoon, Jaem,” Sicheng waves halfheartedly. Disdainfully, he eyes the human mess that is Huang Guanheng and lazily waves between the younger boys. “Jaemin, Jeno—meet Guanheng, Dejun, and Yangyang. They’re around your age and are some of my closest friends from China.”

Jaemin’s eyes narrow into slits. “You,” he accuses, jabbing his finger at Guanheng. “You _suck_ at biking!”

Nervously, Jeno hovers around Jaemin’s side and tentatively places a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “C’mon Jaem, it was just an accident. I just need to kiss your scrape better and then—”

“Jen!” Jaemin shrieks, flushing bright red much to Sicheng’s amusement.

Jeno pouts. “So you don’t want me to kiss it better? Okay…”

“No, that’s not what I—goddammit. Jeno, I _demand_ for you to kiss my scrape better!”

“Okay!”

After _that_ very interesting introduction, Sicheng expected Jeno and Jaemin to bike along on their merry way and spend the rest of their afternoon doing whatever adorable coupley things they always do. To his surprise, however, the power of youth—or, as he likes to call it, that Gen Z energy—prevails as Jeno and Jaemin not only stick around, but actually manage to engage in conversation in Sicheng’s friends. Jaemin, as it turns out, actually understands a decent bit of Mandarin, and when there are holes in the conversation he simply pulls out his phone and boots up a translating app. Jeno remains a little lost, so Sicheng patiently acts as interpreter for him whenever he needs to.

Maybe it’s because he’s finally around people the same age as him, but even Yangyang seems to perk up a bit, too. He takes a particular liking to Jaemin after finding a way to effectively converse through a mixture of English, Mandarin, wild hand gestures, and the trusty translating app. Yangyang’s even smiling again, which Sicheng’s hardly seen at all this entire trip.

Or, now that he thinks about it, Yangyang’s improvement in mood didn’t just start today. What with all the Kun drama going on, Sicheng had completely forgotten about the dinner drama from the other night, when Dejun accidentally exposed the truth that he and Guanheng already knew about Yangyang’s job. He remembers Kun going off to talk to a withdrawn Yangyang, and then he hadn’t seen either of them again until the next day, when the whole Kun and Yuta on the balcony stuff went down. Yangyang had already been somewhat back to normal at that point too, but it had been subtle enough that Sicheng hadn’t noticed. And now he’s smiling again, so what exactly went down these past few days?

Perhaps that’s a question for another day.

Around the same time the sun starts setting, Guanheng suggests they finish off the evening playing basketball. Once again, Sicheng steps back and plays the role of chaperone as the younger boys split into some very uneven teams—poor Dejun and Yangyang, the shortest two, against three? Ridiculous—and devolve from actually playing basketball to just chucking the ball at each others’ faces because they’re actual _children._ Eventually he has to call a timeout because poor Jeno gets nailed in the face by the ever clumsy Guanheng and his nose starts bleeding, so Sicheng is forced to spend the next twenty minutes holding a wad of tissues against Jeno’s face.

“My nose is gonna be even bigger now,” Jeno mumbles miserably. “I’m gonna look even more like that stupid stone face emoji and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Jaemin soothingly rubs him on the back. “It’s okay, Jen. You’re always gonna be cute to me no matter how big your nose gets.”

It takes strength Sicheng didn’t even know he possessed to hold Jeno back from aggressively cuddling the life out of Jaemin on the spot, but he’s proud to report that only a few drops of Jeno’s nose blood land on his shirt.

Unfortunately Sicheng and Yuta have to go back to work the next day, but Sicheng makes an effort to clear his evenings to spend with the kids. He takes them out to eat every day that week, knowing that doing so is a death wish for his poor wallet but it doesn’t matter as long as they keep smiling. Yuta joins them for late night kayaking one time, and then they all explore the streets of Hongdae and hit up as many night markets as they can. Yangyang slyly suggests they go clubbing together, to which Sicheng immediately puts his foot down against, but when he asks if they can go to a bar Sicheng ends up relenting. He warns them not to get shitfaced in a country full of people whose language they can’t understand, but despite their solemn promises, Sicheng and Yuta still end up dragging their sorry selves into the car at three AM.

But, it’s okay.

Life is short enough as it is; if these fleeting moments of happiness with the kids are all Sicheng can get, then he’ll make every last one of them count.

(Because at the end of the day, he doesn’t know how many are left.)

Of course, whatever helped ease Yangyang’s mood wears off eventually.

When Sicheng gets back from work on Thursday, he’s greeted with the sight of a pair of feet dangling over the edge of the couch. A complaint about not stepping all over the furniture is already lodged in his throat, but when he takes a few steps closer and takes in the full sight of Yangyang somberly resting with a bottle of soju balanced on his chest, the irritation dies immediately.

Yuta had to stay behind at work to practice a presentation with Ten and Jeno, so there’s literally no way for Sicheng to run from the situation at hand. Not that he _wants_ to, but dealing with his angsty friend isn’t exactly high on his list of things he enjoys doing.

Stifling a sigh, he drops his work bag to the floor and saunters over to the living room. “Aren’t you a bit young to start drinking your problems away?” Sicheng remarks, looming over the back of the couch. “And it’s a bit rude to break into someone else’s alcohol storage, don’t you think?”

Yangyang’s eyes remain trained on the ceiling. “I’m jobless and quickly approaching broke, ge,” he deadpans. “Let me live.”

 _Brat._ “Now that’s what I call a fat excuse,” Sicheng snorts. Swiftly, he plucks the half-finished bottle of soju off of Yangyang’s chest and moves to set it on the coffee table. “If you got a single drop of this on my couch I’m kicking your ass back to fucking Germany.”

“Please do; I’ve been wanting to go home for a while now,” Yangyang listlessly retorts.

Sicheng bites his lip. So it’s worse than he initially thought. Great. “You know you’re not doing yourself any favors,” he states quietly. “I know you might think being miserable is all you can do, but trust me when I say it’s not.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Yangyang counters, snorting derisively. “What am I supposed to do then, find another job? Do you even _know_ how competitive the job market in Shanghai is? Oh wait, you don’t because _you haven’t been there_.”

A week ago, those words would’ve hit like a slap to the face. But now, Sicheng merely rolls his eyes and ever so maturely retaliates by plopping down on Yangyang’s torso, smirking when the younger man lets out a squawk of indignation.

“I’d think twice before talking to your elder like that,” Sicheng scoffs. “And don’t even try to guilt trip me with that excuse when just the other day you said you’re happy that I’m happy. So try again—I _dare_ you.”

Yangyang bristles underneath him, then wisely chooses to not take the challenge and sinks back down, lips thinned in a tight line. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, barely audible. “I didn’t mean it like that, ge.”

 _I know you didn’t, of course I do._ “You’re right; I haven’t been around these past few years. But,” he frowns and pinches Yangyang’s side for good measure. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Yang. Maybe I’m not the first person you can turn to anymore when something’s wrong, but you can’t just shut people out the way you’ve been doing. I don’t care that I had to find out about your job through Kun. The way you bottled things in instead of telling Dejun and Guanheng, though? Your best friends who literally live within walking distance of you, the people who can give you the most comfort when you need it, the ones who would never make fun of you when you’re vulnerable? The fact that you chose to wallow in your own misery instead of reaching out to people who want nothing more than to help you? That’s very dangerous behavior, and I know that because it’s what I used to always do.”

He thinks of the way Yuta’s eyes looked when the bouquet fell to Ten, feels the pain in his arm from where an angry Sooyoung and a quietly seething Taeil punched him, the patient understanding from Doyoung as he cleaned his cuts. The way Baekhyun chose to grow and how much Chanyeol has grown and the steps Sicheng himself has been taking to be better. The cold, hard truth Jongdae dished out when he said, _it’s okay to be scared_.

“I don’t know what it’s like to like to be scapegoated the way you were. I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through, but I know what it feels like to think you’re all alone and don’t want to burden others. But here’s the thing: you’re _never_ a burden to the people who matter, because if they truly cared about you they’d support you and call you out when you need it the most.”

Gingerly, he hops off of Yangyang’s midsection, giving the younger man a chance to properly breathe again. Sicheng picks up the soju bottle and taps the glass against Yangyang’s head, murmurs, “Be sad all you want; that’s inevitable. But whatever you do, don’t try to convince yourself that this is something you have to take on alone, because you _can’t_.”

_Because I don’t think I wouldn’t have made it this far if I didn’t have the people around me._

Yangyang doesn’t say anything for a long time—doesn’t even move as he continues lying there, staring at the ceiling without blinking. Sicheng, knowing that he’s already said everything he’s had to say, briskly strides to the kitchen to dispose of Yangyang’s leftover, now grossly lukewarm soju. The sound of soju spilling down the sink almost drowns out Yangyang’s voice, but Sicheng hears him nonetheless when he utters, “I think I get why you left now, ge.”

Sicheng stills. “Yeah?” He carefully calls back, gaze fixed on the now empty soju bottle.

He hears rustling, then quiet footsteps padding his way. “I used to not get it,” Yangyang confesses from where he stands leaning against the kitchen counter. “I use to think that maybe you were running away from something, so that’s why you left. Maybe you were sick of us or something, I don’t know. But I do think I understand now, at least a little.”

Heavily, Yangyang lifts his head and meets Sicheng’s probing eyes with his own tired, weary, yet somewhat brighter gaze. “You weren’t running _from_ anything or anyone, but _to_ something new. Because you wanted to see what else was out there. Right?”

“Yeah,” Sicheng breathes, the word coming out in a whisper. “Yeah, I did.” _And I found a place I don’t think I could leave so easily._

Perhaps Yuta isn’t the only best thing that’s ever happened to him; perhaps it’s him and Sooyoung and Taeil and the rest of _office idiots two point oh_ of the past and present—perhaps it was _Seoul._

Yangyang lets out a quiet hum and then—to Sicheng’s immense surprise—steps forth and rests his head on Sicheng’s shoulder, closing his eyes like a child. When was the last time either of them initiated physical contact like this with each other? Sicheng’s always been hyperaware of his personal space bubble and Yangyang’s not particularly touchy either, but admittedly this does feel nice. It’s just, simple. Easy. Nice.

“Sometimes I just want to pack up all my shit and hop on the first plane out of Shanghai,” Yangyang mumbles, the smallest hint of a tremor betraying his otherwise soft tone. “Not somewhere like Beijing or Chengdu or Guangzhou; what if I went to America or back to Germany or even followed you here? It’s not just something I started thinking of before I got fired, either. I don’t know, I guess ever since you left I’ve been wondering if I’m capable of doing the same. That doesn’t sound stupid, right?”

Kun used to always say that Yangyang took after Sicheng a bit too much, and the weight of that platitude never really sank in until now. Delicately, Sicheng lifts a hand to run through the wavy strands of Yangyang’s hair. “I don’t think you sound stupid at all,” he shakes his head. “But it’s also something you shouldn’t follow through with unless you’re absolutely sure.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t!” Sicheng quickly adds when he feels Yangyang’s posture slump. “I think your feelings are perfectly valid and of course I understand the feeling of wanting to find what else is out there, that’s why I left in the first place. But you have to be sure that it’s what you really want, that it’s something you can commit yourself to because it’s going to be tough at first. You’re going to be all alone in some new city in a new country, and if you’re lucky you’ll find good people right away.”

“I think that’s a chance I’m willing to take anyway,” Yangyang mutters defensively.

“I’m not trying to discourage you at all, Yang,” Sicheng sighs. “What I’m trying to say is…no matter what you do or where you go—whether you decide to give another crack at Shanghai or come here or return to Germany or just wherever—I just want you to be happy. I know I know, that sounds easier said than done and it’s the oldest cliché in the book, but trust me, it’s harder than you think.”

When Yangyang pulls away, the look on his face is somewhere between resolute and daunted. “We’ll see,” is all he says, a smile tugging its way up his lips.

Sicheng just smiles in return. _You’re gonna be okay, kid._ “I don’t know if you want to hug it out or…?”

“Gross,” Yangyang wrinkles his nose. “I’m not five, ge. Who ‘hugs it out’ as adults? That’s so childish, pfft.”

Sicheng lifts a brow. “So you’re saying you don’t want to?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Come here, brat.”

“ _Nooooo!”_

Just as Sicheng is about to leap at Yangyang and force the kid into a hug whether he wants one or not, his phone buzzes.

_Huang Xuxi: CODE RED CODE RED CODE RED I REPEAT CODE FUCKING RED_

_Huang Xuxi: Ge you have to save me!!!!!_

What, Sicheng dryly wonders, the fuck kind of bullshit did Lucas get himself into now?

_Dong Sicheng: What do you want_

_Huang Xuxi: No time to explain—meet me at that one diner across the street from work ASAP!!!_

_Dong Sicheng: Xuxi I’m literally already home and hanging out with Yangyang, can’t this wait?_

_Huang Xuxi: Omg you’re with Yangx2? Bring him along then!!!_

_Dong Sicheng: I’m sure he doesn’t want to be bothered right now so are you absolutely SURE you can’t handle this by yourself?_

_Huang Xuxi: GE HAVE I EVER LIED TO YOU BEFORE???_

Yes. Many times, in fact.

Case in point: The tent incident.

Yangyang peers over with wide, curious eyes. “Everything okay?” He checks, poking his head over Sicheng’s shoulder so he can get a good look at what’s going on.

“Xuxi is being Xuxi,” Sicheng responds flatly, angling the screen to let Yangyang read Lucas’s frantic messages.

“Oh,” Yangyang knits his brows in concern. “Um, should we be concerned?”

“Debatable.”

_Huang Xuxi: IF YOU HELP ME I PROMISE I’LL RESTRICT MY SNEAKING OFF WITH MARK TO THE CLOSET TO ONLY ONCE A DAY PLEASE I’M DESPERATE_

_Huang Xuxi: I’LL OWE YOU MY ENTIRE LIFE AND THE LIFE OF MY FUTURE CHILDREN IF YOU JUST DO THIS FOR ME_

Well, now _that’s_ rather intriguing. Sicheng isn’t particularly interested in being Lucas’s master for life (although that would be very useful, having his own six foot something personal servant), but consider his curiosity effectively piqued.

“Hey, Yang,” he speaks up, clapping a hand on Yangyang’s shoulder. “How about we eat out?”

“Over here!” Lucas shouts, wildly waving his arms about with reckless abandon and a complete disregard for the innocent customers populating the café.

Sicheng eyes him judgmentally as he sinks into the seat next to him. “You better have a good reason for dragging us out here, Xuxi,” he grumbles. “I’m a busy man, you know; I don’t have time for bullshit.”

Yangyang snorts so hard he nearly knocks Lucas’s untouched cup of coffee over. “That’s such a lie, ge. We all know you don’t have a life.”

“Why don’t you go back to moping?” Sicheng retorts.

“What’s that? Do you hear something?”

“Guys!” Lucas cries out, clearly in despair over not being the center of attention. He flaps his hands around usefully, the picture of panic as he nearly whacks Sicheng in the chin. “Can we focus on the real problem at hand already? I’m dying!”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Can you stop being so dramatic, Xuxi? Why exactly are you dying? Why is this a red alert? I mean, you don’t look like you’re actually in pain, so maybe I should just go and—”

“I sent Donghyuck my essay and proposal plan and all he said was to meet him here now and I don’t know what he’s gonna do to me!” Lucas screeches at the top of his lungs, attracting more than a few bewildered stares. A mother at a neighboring table even covers her daughter’s ears and shuffles away, muttering something about staying away from strange men.

 _Oh for fuck’s sake._ “ _That’s_ what this is about?” Sicheng groans, smacking his palm against his forehead as hard as he can. “Xuxi, when you text about a red alert I expect there to be an actual emergency. As in, you’re bleeding, burning, or actually dying. I can’t believe you dragged me here because you need me to babysit you.”

“What’s going on?” Yangyang pipes up curiously.

As Lucas launches into a rant in Mandarin about his (hopefully) fiancé to be’s _terrifying_ best friend, Sicheng purposefully tunes him out and pulls out his phone.

_Dong Sicheng to Moon Taeil_

_Dong Sicheng: Help, I got dragged into another Lucas mess_

_Dong Sicheng: I need you to call me ASAP and pretend there’s an emergency so I can get out of this_

_Moon Taeil: Lol, good luck with that_

_Dong Sicheng: Excuse me???!!! We have a deal, hyung!!!!!_

_Moon Taeil: Sorry, but Taeil isn’t available right now :P_

_Dong Sicheng: Wtf_

_Dong Sicheng: DOYOUNG???_

_Moon Taeil: Guilty : )_

_Dong Sicheng: GIVE TAEIL-HYUNG HIS PHONE THIS INSTANT I NEED HIS HELP_

_Moon Taeil: He’s out buying more food for Doraemoon and left his phone at home so you’re stuck with me._

_Dong Sicheng: Then will you please do me a solid and give me a hand?_

_Moon Taeil: Nope, no can do! :D Sorry bud, but you’re on your own here ; )_

_Dong Sicheng: Motherfucker_

_Moon Taeil: Sorry, I don’t swing that way. And didn’t I tell you to start facing your problems more?_

_Dong Sicheng: Yes but that was under very different circumstances_

_Moon Taeil: Doesn’t matter! Have fun with Lucas!_

_Dong Sicheng: You’re kicked out of the squad._

_Moon Taeil: We both know Sooyoung would choose me over you._

_Dong Sicheng: I—_

_Dong Sicheng: GOODBYE_

Stupid Kim Doyoung, he grouses as he aggressively slams his phone on the table. Stupid bunnyboy and his stupid snarky attitude and his stupid ability to always be right. Sicheng knew it was a mistake to let Taeil chase after him, but he’d been unable to do anything in his cake-induced state and now look at the mess he’s brought upon himself. Damn Kim Doyoung to hell and back.

“This is so stupid,” he grouses, petulantly crossing his arms like a child. “Forget it, Xuxi—you’re a grown ass man, you can handle this yourself. C’mon Yang, let’s go—”

Lucas’s fingers curl around his elbow in a death grip. “It’s too late, ge,” Lucas whispers, the blood draining from his face at the speed of light. Morbidly, he whispers, “He’s already here.”

_For. Fuck’s. Sake._

Scowling, Sicheng lifts his head to look in the direction Lucas’s petrified stare is aimed at. A young man who can’t be any older than Lucas and Mark swaggers in like he owns the place, stylish shoes stomping all over the tiled floor. His hair is dyed a light brown and unstyled, cascading over his forehead in a perfectly circular bowl cut. He’s got a big nose and sharp eyes, a smirk covering his entire face as he zeroes in on Lucas’s trembling figure. But, as he saunters closer, one detail about him sticks out the most.

Donghyuck is, to be perfectly honest—and with all due respect— _short._ Not quite midget material like Taeil and Ten, but Sicheng is only a little above average height and he can already tell that if he stood to his full height, he’d be more than a few inches taller. Lucas, the goddamn giant, would tower over Donghyuck.

“ _That’s_ the infamous Donghyuck? He’s like, Taeil-hyung’s height, how can you be afraid of him?” Sicheng hisses in disbelief.

“He kinda looks like one of these,” Yangyang helpfully interjects, pulling up a picture of some rodent slash deer hybrid creature on his phone.

Sicheng scrunches his nose. “The fuck is that? And how’d you find a picture so quickly?”

“What, like you don’t just have photos of pudus saved on your phone?” Yangyang judgmentally raises a brow.

“A _what_? And no, why on earth would I do that?”

“For moments like this? When you need to point out a human doppelgänger?”

“Stop throwing around German words like that; you know we can’t understand what you’re saying.”

“How do you not know what a doppelgänger is? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Don’t worry Yang, I totally get you,” Lucas whispers, temporarily breaking out of his terrified state. “Like, I have so many pictures of baby lions saved so I can compare them to Mark whenever he does anything.”

“They’re called lion _cubs,_ Xuxi,” Sicheng chides, resisting the urge to give Lucas a much-needed flick on the forehead. “I really don’t understand you kids these days.”

“Okay, hag,” Yangyang mutters under his breath.

“ _Will you please refrain from calling me that_!”

Before Yangyang can shoot back a smart remark, the clearing of a throat interrupts them.

“Lucas Wong,” Donghyuck’s nasally voice rings through the air as he sneers down at the (most likely very pathetic-looking) trio. “Wong Yukhei. Huang Xuxi. Hwang Wookhee. Any other identities I should be aware of?”

Lucas’s spine goes rigid as he snaps to attention. “Um, no? W-w-why?” He stutters, anxiously grabbing Sicheng’s hand for support (to which Sicheng immediately rips his appendage away because _ew_ , _gross_ )

“Have some dignity,” Sicheng whispers aggressively.

“Save me,” Lucas replies in a meek whimper.

If Donghyuck hears the exchange, he doesn’t pay it any mind. His sneer deepens as he patronizingly explains, “So I can steal every last one of them and commit fraud when-slash-if you break poor Markie’s heart.”

“Hey, you know I would never do that!” Lucas cries out indignantly.

“How am I supposed to be sure when you can’t even decide what your goddamn name is? How do I know you don’t have as many side hoes as you do names, huh? _Huh?_ ” Donghyuck retorts, spitting out accusations a mile a minute.

“Hyuck, you know I have no side hoes!”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Hmm, true. You’re a nerd, which makes sense because Mark-hyung is one too.”

“ _Hyung_?” Sicheng blinks. He’d thought Donghyuck looked young when he walked in, but now Sicheng’s suspicions are all but confirmed. “Hold the fuck up; just how old are you, kid? What year were you born?”

For the first time, Donghyuck acknowledges the presence of the two strangers. He lifts his chin contemptuously and coolly responds with, “June 2000, do the math yourself.”

_2000…2000…2000…_

Sicheng can’t hold back anymore; without warning, he smacks Lucas as hard as he can on the arm. Shouts, “Xuxi, you mean to tell me that you’ve been letting someone shorter _and_ younger than you bully you this entire time? Have some dignity, for god’s sake!”

“I’m sorry!” Lucas wails, shrinking in on himself until he’s half his normal size.

“And you!” Sicheng roars, jabbing an accusing finger at Donghyuck’s smug face. “Why aren’t you speaking respectfully to your elders?”

Cool as a cucumber, Donghyuck reacts by defiantly jutting out his chin. “Whatever you say, hag.”

Sicheng’s vision goes red. “ _Hag?_ Why do people keep calling me that, I’m not even twenty-seven yet how can I be a ha—you know what, just shut your goddamn mouth before I duct tape it shut!”

“Sounds fake—why would you carry duct tape around with you?” Donghyuck sassily counters.

“I wouldn’t threaten him if I were you, Hyuck,” Lucas quietly interjects. “Sicheng-ge’s the only one I fear more than you.”

“ _Thank you!_ ” Sicheng exclaims, throwing his hands up in victory.

Now Sicheng’s met plenty of annoying people in his life. He’s encountered his fair share of bratty underclassmen during high school and college, and working as a receptionist and secretary automatically meant dealing with some of the most irritating businesspeople to exist. Donghyuck, however, isn’t quite like anyone Sicheng’s ever met before. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but Donghyuck isn’t exactly _annoying_ , per se. Sure he’s giving Lucas a rough time, but judging by the amusement flickering in his eyes and smirk that isn’t quite as malicious as his words, Sicheng suspects Donghyuck is just acting the way he is to have some fun. A shit-stirrer? Yeah, probably. But an overly protective best friend who’s hell-bent on shutting Lucas out of Mark’s life? Not even close.

Still, that doesn’t mean Donghyuck isn’t a pain in the ass—and the worst part is that the insolent brat knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s _enjoying_ it. Fuck Gen Z kids, really.

A tug on his sleeve drags him back to the present. “Um, ge? Can you give me like, a quick recap of everything that’s just happened?” Yangyang whispered, furtively sneaking glances at the domineering Donghyuck and cowering Lucas.

“Hell if I know,” Sicheng grunts.

Donghyuck, meanwhile, has turned back to his original target. “So,” he remarks, causing Lucas to jump in his seat. “I read your newly revised essay and powerpoint. And I must say, Lucas Wong: That was, without a doubt, the nerdiest proposal I’ve ever heard of. It’s so nerdy and lame that I’m obligated to reject it. Better luck next time, daddy longlegs.”

Sicheng chokes on air. _Daddy longlegs. Fucking hell._

“B-but,” Lucas whines, bottom lip quivering in a helpless pout.

For a moment, Sicheng braces himself for the inevitable crying fit. As much as he pities Lucas for having to deal with such a cutthroat menace like Donghyuck, the guy brought it upon himself, really. Anyone with half a brain can tell that Donghyuck is just acting like some cruel overlord for shits and giggles, but Lucas is either actually that dumb, oblivious, or nervous about proposing that he fails to notice. Sicheng gets that proposals are big lifetime events and all, but for Christ’s sake, the kid needs to calm down and stop to _think_ for a minute.

Automatically, he reaches out robotically pats Lucas on the back. “There, there, Xuxi—you’ll be fine, just write an eleven thousand essay and fix your powerpoint, there’s no need to—”

 _“No!_ ” Lucas suddenly shouts, shooting to his feet and banging his fists on the table, and away scuttles another terrified mother with her young child.

Lucas fixes Donghyuck with a seething glare. Snaps, “You know what? No! I don’t care! I don’t need your approval just because you’re Mark’s best friend—I’m going to go with my lame ass proposal because I know that Markie will still be happy with it regardless! Screw you, Donghyuck—you’re an outsider whose opinion is entirely irrelevant! I’m going to propose and he’ll say yes and we’ll get married and be perfectly happy with or without your approval, thank you very much—or actually, thank you very _not_ much!”

Sicheng is, to put it lightly, completely and utterly flabbergasted. _He’s done it. He’s really gone and done it. Oh my god, I might just cry._

Even Yangyang, who can’t understand a single word of what’s just transpired, can’t hold back his giggles.

Breathing heavily, Lucas picks up his jacket and shrugs it on. “I’m out of here,” he sniffs, glowering derisively at a stone-faced Donghyuck. “I’m about to propose to the love of my life, no thanks to _you._ So you can just suck it and go fu—”

“Sit down, Lucas,” Donghyuck deadpans, jerking his chin to the seat.

Lucas frowns. “No! Why would I listen to you when I just—”

“ _I said sit the fuck down, you freakishly tall imbecile_.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucas squeaks, scrambling back to a sitting position.

Sicheng rolls his eyes. _Nope, now he’s back to the Xuxi I know._

Unbothered, Donghyuck languidly picks at a nail and reclines back in his chair. Ominously, he narrows his eyes at Lucas and, in a dangerously even voice, says, “I hope you understand the consequences of your actions, Lucas Wong. If Mark says yes then just know I’ll always be watching you like a hawk, and if he says no then I’ll be the first on the scene to incessantly mock you, then continue to do so for as long as you shall live. If your wedding is anything less than absolutely positively perfect and what dear Mark has always dreamed of, I’ll flame you in my very popular online blog and recount every excruciating detail in my autobiography when I’m eventually offered a book deal. If you do not name at least one of your future children after me, then I am disowning you as my friends. Furthermore, if you fail to name me as godfather for any and all of your offspring, then I will not only remove you from my will, but leave a detailed description of your betrayal in it for all my friends and family to see. If you so much as _think_ about cheating, I will gladly castrate you with a butcher knife while you sleep. And if—god forbid—you and Mark get divorced, I will personally attend each and every meeting with your divorce lawyer and intimidate him/her into giving Mark the better share of the spoils, leaving you to collect a pitiful amount of social security money and work at a fast food joint until the day you croak, alone and without anyone who loves you. Are we clear?”

Poor Lucas, whom Sicheng would usually compare to an energetic tiger, is now reduced to a pitiful sheep in front of a sharp-toothed wolf. “Crystal,” he bleats obediently, weakly saluting with a shaky arm for added effect.

“Good,” Donghyuck’s smirk deepens even more, if that’s even possible. Without further ado, he rises to his feet and departs with nothing more than a lax wave. “Then I’ll see you again very soon, Wong. Take care of my dear Markie in the mean time. Goodbye to you as well, stranger,” he adds, gaze briefly flitting to a still very much lost Yangyang. Then, Donghyuck’s piercing eyes settle on Sicheng, who is incredibly ashamed of the shiver that runs up his spine as Donghyuck smugly announces, “Goodbye, hag.”

_Mark my words, I will murder this boy._

Only once Donghyuck’s figure is out of sight do the three of them dare breathe again. “I have zero clue what just happened,” Yangyang speaks up first. “But I never want to see that guy again.”

“I think I’m going to hear that nasally voice in my nightmares,” Sicheng laments, shuddering at the thought of Donghyuck’s leering visage and ferociously sarcastic tone.

Lucas sympathetically claps him on the shoulder. “Yeah, it’s a common side effect with Hyuck. Lasts for like, a solid month and there’s nothing you can do about it but suffer.”

Sicheng slumps over the table. “Fuck,” he utters listlessly.

“But!” Lucas claps his hands together excitedly, his trademark beam back on his face now that his tormenter has disappeared. “I can finally propose now! Thanks so much, Sicheng-ge!”

“I’m not really sure what I did to help, but okay then,” Sicheng grumbles, figuring that that’s as much compensation for his time wasted as he’s gonna get.

At least Lucas is happy. At the very fucking least.

Feeling about ten times more worn out than when he first set foot in the café, Sicheng fishes his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It’s almost seven but Yuta still hasn’t texted him, which means that he’s still swamped with his sales team presentation. Sicheng’s too drained to cook, so he rubs his eyes and mumbles, “How does fried chicken sound for dinner? You can come too, Xuxi.”

“Oooh, sounds great!” Yangyang grins, followed by Lucas’s excited cheers.

Privately, Sicheng thinks this is a sight he could get used to.

“Well, let’s go then,” Sicheng sighs, hoisting himself to feet. “I know just the place, but it’s probably already crowded so we should hurry and—oh…”

Are his eyes playing tricks on him, or is that who he thinks it is standing at the counter waiting for his order? Squinting, Sicheng takes another look and sure enough, that small figure is definitely exactly whom he thought.

Casually, he says, “Hey, you two stick around for a bit. Or you can wait outside, whatever. I need to go talk to a friend before we head out.”

Without waiting for a response, Sicheng weaves through the crowded café until he reaches the familiar figure. Just as the small man accepts his drinks from the barista, Sicheng taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

Baekhyun whirls around, droopy eyes widening in recognition. “Oh! Hi, Sicheng—what a surprise!” He yelps, already light voice even higher than usual.

Sicheng waves, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. He very much did not think this through—it suddenly hits him that other than the couple of weeks he spent under Baekhyun’s wing at work and the time he showed up at Baekhyun’s door a sobbing mess, he really doesn’t know much about his former coworker. Like, at all.

“Er, hi,” Sicheng coughs. “I’m here with some friends and I saw you, so I thought I should say hi. So, uh, hi. Hi.”

Baekhyun tilts his head. “You just said hi three times, Sicheng,” he points out playfully. “But hello to you, too. You’re looking better than the last time I saw you, considering you were strapped to a hospital bed and all.”

Sicheng grimaces at the memory of that particular Jongdae-instigated visit. “Yeah, I prefer not to talk about that. Thanks, though.”

“You’re welcome!” Baekhyun chirps, grinning as he sets the two cups in his hands on a table.

 _Two, huh?_ Sicheng thinks, eyes wandering to the rather suspicious number.

Baekhyun flushes upon realizing he’s been caught. “So I’m, uh, meeting a friend?” He explains with a sheepish grin.

“A friend, huh?” Sicheng echoes with a pointed raise of his brow.

Defeated, Baekhyun shrinks in on himself. “It might be Chanyeol,” he mumbles noncommittally.

 _Aha_.

Before Sicheng can say anything, Baekhyun quickly flutters his hands in front of himself and says, “That time at the hospital was the first time I’d seen him since I quit, and one thing led to another and somehow we ended up making plans to get coffee. I don’t know, I feel like I talked a big game and everything about being independent and letting myself grow and all that, and now here I am, about to meet up with the exact person I said I needed to distance myself from and—god, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just let him go already?”

As Baekhyun continues rambling about just how bad of a person he must be for going back on the promises he made to himself, _blah blah blah_ , Sicheng takes a moment to examine him more carefully. Baekhyun looks as youthful as ever, not a single feature on his face betraying his real age. He still has the telltale tired university student signs like the dark circles under his eyes, but instead of seeming worn out he appears refreshed, almost revitalized. He’s even dyed his hair to a dark reddish-brown just bold enough to stand out but also natural enough to still blend in. Baekhyun looks, to put it simply, _good_ , and Sicheng doesn’t need to know him well to be able to see that much.

So before Baekhyun can work himself up too much with his anxieties, Sicheng gently cuts him off by saying, “I don’t think you have anything to feel bad about, hyung.”

Baekhyun freezes. “What?”

“I mean,” Sicheng shrugs. “I don’t know everything about your relationship with Chanyeol-hyung, but does it really have to as extreme as you not interacting with each other until you both finish growing or whatever? I think he’s been figuring things out for himself while you’ve been gone. Like, as far as taking care of Jisung goes, I’d say his dad skills are a lot better now, which has made him a lot happier. And I don’t know, I’d say you’re doing pretty well for yourself too, so maybe you don’t have to wait? Maybe you should just go for it?”

Baekhyun lets out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sicheng, but all the times I’ve just ‘gone for it’ haven’t exactly worked out great for me…” he trails off, mouth thinning to an unsure line.

Sicheng, however, isn’t quite convinced. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re afraid?” He challenges. _Sometimes, all they need is a little push…_

“Damn,” Baekhyun whistles lowly, the beginnings of a smile gracing his mouth. “When did you get so smart, huh?”

“You can say it comes with the job,” Sicheng grins.

Baekhyun ducks his head. “Hmm, I see I’ve raised you well, then.”

“So…?” Sicheng insistently prompts. _C’mon, I know you don’t need another push._

“So what?” Baekhyun feigns indifference.

 _Not on my watch you don’t._ “Don’t play dumb, hyung. What about Chanyeol?”

Frazzled, Baekhyun snatches one of his cups and nervously taps his fingers along the side, not even bothering—or perhaps too queasy—to drink from it. “I just—I don’t know, okay?” He sighs, tapping intensifying as his gaze darts to the entrance. “I’ve already got enough on my mind as it is and things are a bit hectic at the moment. Turns out school really does suck and I’ve got all these deadlines that suddenly seem so much worse for me now than they did fifteen years ago, and lately I’ve been trying to look for a new place because mine is a bit small and I really need some extra space or else I’ll go crazy from how cramped everything is, but then I’ve also got to worry about finding somewhere else that’s affordable and you know how ridiculous the Seoul housing market can be, and then there’s the matter of—”

“So is that a yes?” Sicheng interrupts matter-of-factly. _Almost there, almost there…_

Baekhyun looks about five seconds from catapulting his coffee cup across the room. “No? I don’t know? Maybe? I guess?”

Sicheng raises a brow.

Groaning, Baekhyun buries his face in his hands and, voice muffled, admits, “Fine, it’s a yes. _Yes._ ”

 _About damn time._ “Good for you, hyung,” Sicheng dips his head in congratulations. “I hope it all works out. I really do.”

And then, like some sort of epiphany, it hits him.

“Hey,” he adds, hiding his smirk behind a hand. “If you’re serious about moving out though, I know just the place. I can even personally transfer the lease, actually.”

(A few months down the road, give or take)

Sicheng slams his forehead against the steering wheel. “Why the fuck are _we_ in charge of the kidnapping?”

“Dunno,” Yuta shrugs, unhelpful as always. “But I’m honored that Lucas thought we’d be good at it.”

“I mean I get why he’d choose me and I guess you, but,” Sicheng twists around to eye the two idiots in the backseat. “Why _them_?”

Ten pauses from pulling Seungwan’s hair just long enough to glare in return. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know that I’m stealthy as hell!” He retorts indignantly.

Sicheng fixes him with an unimpressed frown and deadpans, “Just yesterday you tried to reach the sugar packets in the top cabinet, jumped, missed, caught your foot against a drawer, and fell on your ass. Don’t think for a second that I didn’t notice that.”

Ten blanches. “Well fuck you, too.”

Seungwan comforts him the only way she knows how: by slapping both his cheeks at the same time. “Don’t worry, Tennie. I definitely didn’t catch that on video, nope I did not,” she solemnly consoles.

“Actually, why are you also here?” Yuta wonders, sending Seungwan a quizzical look. “Like, I can actually kind of understand Ten because he’s the only one chaotic enough to actually go through with Lucas’s plan, but what about you?”

“Don’t be silly, Yuta,” Seungwan scoffs. “It takes a Canadian to know how to kidnap one. Speaking of which, shouldn’t we be proceeding with the mission?”

Ten straightens up in excitement. “Oh, hell yeah,” he grins giddily. “Got the maple syrup, noona?”

“Duh,” Seungwan conjures a gallon of maple syrup that Sicheng’s fairly sure she didn’t have when she got into his car half an hour ago, so _what the fu—_

“Great,” Ten claps his hands. Mischievously, he unlocks the door and slips out, and the last words Sicheng hears before the dynamic idiot duo disappears into the night are, “Let’s go kidnap a Canadian.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Sicheng declares, disdainfully watching as Ten and Seungwan’s shadowy silhouettes skip into the apartment complex like the children they truly are.

Yuta doesn’t even try countering that statement. “Well, on the bright side at least we don’t have to do the hard work. We’re just the getaway drivers,” he offers, playfully shoving Sicheng’s shoulder when he’s met with a stony glare.

“I swear to god,” Sicheng grumbles. “One of the neighbors is gonna see two suspicious idiots sneaking around with a gallon of maple syrup and call the cops, and then we’re gonna have to bail them out with our hard-earned money. I’m gonna kill Xuxi for giving us such a risky job.”

“Eh, could be worse,” Yuta shrugs. Absently, he reaches for Sicheng’s hand that’s still rested on the console and places his on top, rubbing the back of Sicheng’s palm with his thumb. “I mean, would you rather be part of the kidnapping team or reenacting out one of fifteen cringeworthy scenes from Mark and Lucas’s illustrious relationship like the rest of our coworkers are? Pick your poison, really.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” He trails off, shuddering at the thought of being cast in Lucas’s grand production slash proposal. Poor Taeil has to play nerdy sophomore Mark from his first meeting with foreign exchange student Lucas, who is unfortunately not played by Doyoung but by Johnny instead because somehow Lucas dragged their former temporary coworker into this mess too. Everyone knows Mark is going to say yes after the scenes are over because he’s just that in love with his tall idiot, but Sicheng sincerely hopes he won’t be too embarrassed to recount the proposal story in the future.

Donghyuck certainly wasn’t lying when he said Lucas’s proposal plan was lame; it is, without a doubt, the cheesiest, most questionable, cringe-inducing plot Sicheng’s ever heard. Hell, _he—_ the tsundere supreme, master of (not) romance himself—could even do better. Sicheng vows to make sure his future proposal will be infinitely better than Lucas’s concoction, because if he ever manages to stoop as low as Lucas he’ll be too ashamed to face the light of day again. Sicheng’s proposal will be absolutely perfect, filled with just the right balance of romance and uniqueness and okay definitely some cheesiness but also his own special quirk and—wait.

_Wait._

Furtively, Sicheng glances at his boyfriend from the corner of his eye. Yuta’s face is shrouded in the dark, but Sicheng can still make out some features of his profile like the slope of his nose and the squareness of his chin. He’s preoccupied with something on his phone—probably his group chat with Ten and Seungwan, so he can make sure the idiotic duo hasn’t gotten up to too much trouble yet—and his hair is getting just a bit long because he ignored the need for a cut all summer and he’s still idly tracing patterns over Sicheng’s hand with his thumb and he’s beautiful and—

And Sicheng can see it. He really, truly can.

“Hey,” he nudges Yuta’s shoulder with his. Once he’s captured Yuta’s attention, Sicheng coyly shifts his gaze to the side and, as evenly as he can, remarks, “Don’t ever ask me to marry you, okay? Just don’t.”

Silence consumes the car, a horrible silence filled with nothing but dread and Sicheng knows that realistically this kind of silence is one he should be concerned by, but all he can do is smile secretly to himself under the cover of darkness.

“Oh,” Yuta says, confusion laced with disappointment woven through his voice. “Oh. Okay then. I guess I understand.”

The sadness emitting from Yuta almost makes Sicheng feel bad—almost. Slowly, he turns his palm until it’s facing up and properly intertwines their fingers, caressing the stiffness out of Yuta’s knuckles.

“Because,” he waits another beat, then finally puts Yuta out of his misery. “Because I’m gonna be the one to do it.”

And not even the nighttime can dim the light in Yuta’s eyes.

“Oh,” he breathes again, except this time there’s no sadness; just plain, unadulterated mirth. Sicheng doesn’t need to look to know Yuta’s smiling his perfect, perfect smile that puts the sun to shame.“Is this a proposal, Sicheng?” He teases, a hint of suppressed giddiness in his tone.

Coquettishly, Sicheng ducks his head and focuses on the way Yuta’s hand feels in his. “Not exactly,” he hums.

“Consider it a pre-proposal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits to my friend whoviee for the name Doraemoon! : ) Hope you enjoyed her cameo, hehehe
> 
> Another day, another 100k+ fic in the bag. I wasn't sure where this fic was going to go when I started, so I kept making stuff up as I went along and somehow ended up at this monster word count. It's been a lot of fun to expand my office au and write considerably more crack than I normally would, and even though I don't currently have plans to add another installment to this series I'm always open to more.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who made it this far! I'll be back ASAP with more writing : )


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